


The Light Within Darkness

by Lyetta



Series: Starlight Sequence [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyetta/pseuds/Lyetta
Summary: A modern re-telling (ish) and sequel to A View of the Stars. Split POV. Rating change from Chapter 11.Feyre has survived her time Under the Mountain and is now living with and engaged to Tamlin. Separated from her friends Rhys and Cassian, she is fast approaching breaking point.Still haunted by a past that he cannot talk about, Rhys finally starts to move on after Amarantha. But can he move on from Feyre too?
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: Starlight Sequence [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602223
Comments: 81
Kudos: 108





	1. Prologue

**Chapter One - Prologue**

_The memory of that phone call is clearer in my mind than the memory of any other conversation. It ripped my soul in two, one piece for each of them._

_That call carved a line through my life so that everything that has ever happened can now be labelled as Before or After. It changed the person I was - then and for every moment since, I will never be_ him _again._

 _To accept what had happened without proof was impossible for me. Even partial proof was not enough, there was still so much we didn't know. I searched for days and days without food or sleep. Even when the official search was called off (was ‘complete’), I couldn’t rest._ _That the others gave up so quickly felt like a betrayal. In this alone, my father and I were briefly allies - an alliance that only ended with more loss._

 _My mother was the glue that held out unconventional family together. Finding her body seemed to drive us apart, or at least, it seemed to drive_ me _away from_ them _._

_My sister was the brightest light in our lives. I could never have predicted how this much-younger sibling would become the star our family orbited. We were all devoted to her, for every moment of her life. Without her we lived on in darkness._

_Yet whilst the others grieved, I still could not give up. I'm not sure if I have ever stopped searching - I just exchanged the mountain paths for city streets, searching human faces when there were no more rock faces to look upon. What would she look like today? Would I even recognise her now?_

_I lived each day on memories and daydreams. And as weeks turned to months turned to years, I lived on the memory of a daydream - the dream where we found her alive._

_When the fifth anniversary came around I crashed. Hard. Denial finally caught up with me - and almost too late because whilst searching for the family I'd lost, I’d missed the growing threat to the family I had remaining._

_I've often wondered if Amarantha knew. I cannot truly believe it was a coincidence. But either way, I had not been aware of the risks surrounding us and by the time I woke up, I had an impossible choice to make._

_I chose to cut myself off from my family. The people I'd taken for granted for five years were now out of reach. I chose to shield them from Amarantha but give her everything else, including myself, though not at first._

_And so_ _another five years pass me by, in a new form of isolation, one that eventually drove me from bar to bar, never close enough to be recognised, never staying long enough to become known._

 _Until I felt that light again, after a decade of darkness. Until I saw her smile - a rich, complicated smile that hinted at a life with challenges and hard-won victories._ _When I saw that light, I was a moth and I knew I would never willingly be anywhere else._

_And I knew that the time of Amarantha’s darkness was ending, the darkness that hides, smoothers and oppresses, because the time had come to fight back._

_I just never expected to have to watch as the owner of that beautiful smile paid the price for my freedom._


	2. Feyre

**Chapter Two - Feyre**

Beep

_Numb._

Beep

_Cold._

Beep

The sheets are rough below my palms as I clench and unclench the fingers of one hand. The other hand, _other arm_ , I can't feel at all. 

_I'm alive._ I repeat this in my head, trying to drown out all the worries about the injuries I must have. And the worries buried deeper, about where Amarantha is and what would happen if she found me in this state.

Sleep soon pulls all these thoughts away.

.o0O0o.

The next time I wake my hand is warm, held gently by another. Tamlin sit beside me. He sees me squinting across at him and smiles. "Morning sleeping beauty."

His smile throws me, did I imagine everything?

_No._

I ask the obvious question, "Where am I?"

He supplies the obvious answer. "Hospital, back in Velaris. We got here the night before last by helicopter."

I have no memory of a helicopter but I do remember- "Rhys?"

A cloud passes over Tamlin's face. His eyes are hard and ice cold. "Rhysand is partly the reason you're here."

"What? Rhys wasn't -"

"Feyre, you're confused," he snaps. After a moment, he reaches over and brushes his fingers down my face. When he continues his voice is softer, "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be worrying about any of that now. You should be resting."

But I don’t want to rest. "What happened to Amarantha?"

"Everything has been dealt with. _Rest_ Feyre."

Agitation brings on pain, nothing compared with how I'd felt lying on the road but enough for Tamlin to call in a nurse, who tops up my medication.

Morphine. That's what they were giving me. And with an extra dose I am soon slipping back into sleep, much to Tamlin's relief and my own frustration.

.o0O0o.

Two or three days pass in this way, always in and out of sleep. They tell me this is good, it's what my body needs. Time and rest.

While I am awake, I press Tamlin for information yet what I get back only confuses me more.

Everything that happened Under the Mountain was a lie. How people behaved and what they said - none of it should be trusted. Tamlin says that even _his_ actions were an act and not really him. I should forget it all and move on.

But I can't.

When I ask about Amarantha, he tells me only that it's dealt with. The same line he gave me when I had first woken up. _Dealt with_ , I’m not sure what this means.

Lucien tells me a little more, when we are left briefly alone. He says that she was arrested driving away and that there will be a trial.

I don't get the impression Lucien approves of keeping me in the dark but his loyalty to Tamlin runs deeps. I don't want to push it but there is something else I need to know.

"And Rhys?" It is a whisper but Lucien is close enough to hear. He looks at the door, beyond which Tamlin is talking with my doctor, then back at me.

"He's helping the police with their inquiries. But he's not allowed near you."

"He _saved_ my life -"

Lucien cuts in before I have to bring up the details of how he emptied the vomit from my throat. "I know. And so does Tam. That's why he's so angry. It's _guilt_ Feyre, give him time. Please."

.o0O0o.

Days spent in hospital become weeks spent here, and then I am having surgery again, this time planned.

After the surgery, I finally start coming off the morphine and begin physiotherapy. My body responds well, so time has helped after all.

And I give Tamlin the time he needs too. Until eventually he seems to talk more easily with me. Even about what happened that night. Ready to admit that he froze, that Rhys had to step in and do the things he should have done for me.

And I listen as he tells me that we had all been acting, that we only did what we needed to do to get through that awful week. I listen to Tamlin telling me I'd been manipulated by Amarantha… but also by Rhys.

I listen as he re-writes my past until I have heard the same story so many times that I can hardly remember what is fact and what is just a fabrication. 

By the one month milestone after what Tam now calls the 'accident', I am beginning to believe that none of it was real. Because if my memories were true, then surely Rhys would have come to visit by now. The person I remember, who helped me through every horror designed by Amarantha, would have come to see if I was ok. With or without Tamlin's permission.

But he hasn’t come. And, with hospital discharge now rapidly approaching, I find that it is less painful to forget about Rhys and instead look forward to the future that Tamlin has promised.

.o0O0o.

I'm sat on my bed, tired from my short walk around the room but happy beyond words that I can now walk unsupported.

There is still a cast on my left leg but the pins they put in to help it heal have now been taken out and the bone is almost mended.

The door opens and I turn, expecting to see one of the nurses Tamlin has bullied into checking on me every twenty minutes (now that he has returned to work). But instead of a nurse I see a ghost from the past.

_Rhysand_.

My mouth opens in surprise and he gives me his trademark smirk. "Hello darling, you're looking better than the last time I saw you."

Though he smiles as he speaks, it doesn't reach his eyes and I note the way he looks me up and down, searching for signs of the injuries he knows I had suffered.

“You’re here.” It’s a stupid thing to say and I expect him to point that out but he just keeps on watching me, approaching slowly as though he expects me to flee. “Tamlin will be-”

“I know, I won’t stay long.” Finally he is close enough to place his hand on my arm, I can feel his warmth through the thin hospital gown, I can smell his scent and now I _know_ \- I know it was all true. “How are you feeling?”

I nod, suddenly confused by him being here though, on some level, I never truly stopped hoping he would come.

“You’ll be discharged soon?”

I nod again and then feel cross with myself and hot all over. I want to speak but nothing comes and a sudden irrational fear that I will never be able to speak again prevents me from even trying.

Tears slip from my eyes and I look down, attempting to hide them from him.

“Feyre.” His arms carefully surround me and I’m leaning into him before I have a chance to overthink it. “You don’t need to speak, just listen. You did so much for everyone. It’s only been one month but the whole industry is thriving again, because of you.

“What happened to you won’t just go away when you get home, whatever Tamlin might say. I want to help but we both know he won’t let me.” Rhys pull back enough to find my eyes with his, still just as striking as the first time I met him. He raises a hand to my cheek and wipes away the tears. “But I’m here Feyre. If you ever need anything, call me.”

Into my hand he presses a small slip of paper. “Probably best if Tamlin didn’t know about that, can you keep it hidden?”

I nod again, drinking in every detail of his face. Was it really only a month since I’d seen him? It felt like much longer than that.

“Good,” he whispers and gives me a smile. I manage a weak smile in return.

And then he's gone again. Leaving me with all the things I should have said still in my head. _Thank you. I’m sorry. Don’t leave me._

**Two months later**

When the shouting starts, I am out of my seat in an instant and down on the floor, sat with my back against the wall. Before I dropped out of sight, my eyes had darted once to the open door: no one there. I can’t see the exit now but that is a price worth paying to be hidden from view.

I wrap my arms around my knees and since my hands are tightly curled into fists, I twist my wrists together, locking all my limbs in place. I feel safer on the ground - you cannot fall in you’re already on the floor.

And now I count, loudly, in my head, trying not to hear who is shouting (Tamlin) or what they are shouting about (me).

1, 2, 3, …

I know why he is angry this time. Alis has spent the last hour here, trying to find the person she met at Spring Publishing about a year ago. But that person isn’t here, or anywhere else for that matter. That person died.

I wish that Alis would just accept that but, judging from the fragments of the argument that are slipping past my mental wall, she won’t.

I’d be worried for her job at this point, Tamlin is _that_ angry, but what Alis came here to tell me is that she’s moving, with her nephews, back to her home town.

Another goodbye.

... 4, 5, 6, …

The thump of a fist hitting the wall is followed almost instantly by the high pitched beep of the security alarm. And almost instantly after that, Tamlin begins to yell even louder, to be heard above the ringing.

My hands go up automatically to cover my ears and my eyes squeeze shut. _Please stop. Please._

... 7, 8, 9, 10

The volume drops suddenly as the previously open door is pushed shut, muffling the voices enough that I can hear footsteps as they cross the room. I freeze, even holding my breath as I wait to find out who approaches.

Fear swells inside me and I stare at my knees, unable to look up.

A man slides down the wall to sit beside me and after a moment I feel his arms wind around my shoulders.

My breathing hitches and then I empty my lungs in a rush that takes some of the tension away. My next breath is easier. I lean into the only person whose embrace I can cope with when I feel like this, trying to reset my heart rate with his.

"It will get easier," Lucien whispers.

I press closer but say nothing. He’s said that before. Since getting back from hospital these 'episodes', as Tamlin calls them, only seem to be getting more frequent, not less.

We hear the front door slam shut and then the alarm finally falls silent. Lucien, knowing I won't want to be found like this, helps me to my feet. Just in time, as Tamlin storms in, glaring at Lucien and then at me.

"What did you tell her?" I can only look back at him blankly. "She called you a prisoner - in your own home! She says I'm keeping you here."

_You are keeping me here_ , I think. But this is an old argument and not one I have any desire to restart. Even my silence seems to irritate Tamlin.

"I asked you a question Feyre. What did you tell her?"

"Nothing." And it’s the truth. Alis was with me for close to an hour but besides from the occasional 'yes' or 'no', I said absolutely nothing. I suspect silence is one reason why my number of friends has fallen and keeps on falling. I have no regular contact with anyone except Tamlin and Lucien, not even my family.

"Fine," Tamlin snaps, turning his attention to Lucien. "What were you doing in here?"

"I was just saying hello to Feyre before I head off." He turns back to me and lightly grips my forearm until my eyes flick up to meet his, "See you soon." He gives me a smile that says more than he ever could aloud with Tamlin in the room, and then leaves.

I know Tamlin will have seen the silent communication between us and I am unsurprised when he stalks out of the room right on Lucien's heels. Angry words are said but the volume doesn't rise to its previous level - partly as Tam has more time for Lucien and partly because Lucien gives way far easier than Alis.

I want to return to my spot on the floor but cannot. Tamlin will be back soon. So I sit back on the sofa and pick up the book I had been looking through before Alis arrived.

_Looking_ , not reading. Because I can’t read and have no hope of ever being able to. I love books, I worked at a publishing company until recently, but growing up I had to make some hard choices. Learning to read was the victim of one of those choices.

I trace a finger over one of the illustrations, a beautiful watercolour of a young woman reading a letter surrounded by trees. From this picture alone, I can tell the letter has brought unexpected news, the young woman is conflicted.

It is for the illustrations that I chose this book to hide within. Tamlin doesn't know that I can't read and can never know. But I give the impression of reading since that pleases him and he leaves me alone if he thinks I am busy with a book.

Pouring over illustrations is also the closest I can safely get to my true passion - painting. Something that only brings me anxiety and despair these days.

.o0O0o.

As I listen to Tamlin getting ready for bed in the room beside mine, I realise that Alis's visit today has been one of only three eventful days since I was in hospital. And that was two months ago now.

_Three_ _days_ in all that time. Its crazy when I think how much can happen in just one week.

The only other days to stand out in my memory are the first day here and the day Tamlin proposed, the second marking the halfway point of my new life trapped in his apartment.

That day, Tamlin came home from work to find me at the window, where I spend a good chunk of everyday - imagining the lives of the people below; pretending that witnessing their daily routines makes me a part of their lives; inventing friendships to replace the one’s I’ve lost.

He came to my window seat and pulled me gently to my feet. There was something in his eyes that I couldn’t read and I missed the beginning of what he was saying while my mind tried to make sense of his expression.

Then he dropped to one knee and I understood.

Understood and wanted to flee.

He told me that he loved me and that this was a chance for us both to make a new start. He promised me a life better than anything I could imagine.

Yet I didn’t give him an answer. I had always thought this sort of moment was meant to be a happy one and maybe I’m just not meant to be happy, but before I could sort through my thoughts he continued. He told me how much better life would be for my family too, how they would benefit from our marriage.

I wonder if he sensed my hesitation. If mentioning my family was a way to tempt me into saying yes, then it worked.

That was the last night he visited my bed, though his visits had been uncommon since I’d gotten out of hospital. I’m not complaining, I prefer it this way.

When he left me to return to his own room, my thoughts were of another man.

I don’t believe that Rhys was acting when we were alone together Under the Mountain. We are alike, Rhys and I. There was even a moment when I thought I would give everything up for him once that week was over. The person I was then could have done it, left Tamlin and faced his rage. But not the person I am now.

Who I am now is weak and not worthy.

I sound ungrateful. In his own way, I know Tamlin loves me and he is taking care of my family too. When, as Lucien says, ‘things get easier’, maybe Tamlin and I will put all this behind us.

.o0O0o.

_The mountains around me seem to spin as I look up at the sky caught between them. A sky that seems to shrink, closing in on me where I am lying, flat on my back on the road._

_My chest heaves but my lungs and throat are full - just not with air. I try to make myself sick, but no part of my body will obey._

_In despair, I look for help. And find Tamlin._

_My eyes meet his but he neither moves nor speaks. He stares at me with such disinterest that I forget that I am choking - that I am dying._

_Then a hand, with long fingernails painted blood red, grips my chin -_

And I wake.

I run to the toilet where I force up every imaginary blockage, freeing my airway and emptying my stomach. When bile bites at my throat I pull away. Resting my head against the cistern, letting its surface cool my flushed skin.

I know I am fully awake when the smell of the vomit registers. Not long tonight, sometimes the dreams cling to my mind as I untangle nightmare from memory.

I flush and clean my teeth before heading back to my room but not to bed. On the way I draw out a slip of paper from under the mantelpiece clock.

Sitting by the window I search the sky for stars, knowing I'll not find any. The darkness is muted by the light pollution here in the centre of Velaris. I loved this city once but now I long to be far away or long ago, when electricity wouldn't blind me to the beauty of the universe.

In an attempt to stop myself from re-living the nightmare over and over, I run a fingertip over the folder paper. I can trace the indentation easily; the writer would have left an imprint on the page below, though I’m sure that sheet is long gone now.

I don’t need to hide this slip of paper, I don’t need to keep it at all – I have it memorised. I may not be able to read words but I have no problem with numbers.

Though it is an almost nightly routine to sit with his number looking out at the dark streets below, I know I will never call.

So many nights have passed since our brief conversation at the hospital, since our partnership Under the Mountain, since the beginning of our friendship at the bar where I used to work. And I have changed so much during that time.

But, I’ll keep his number all the same.


	3. Rhys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going to include chapters from the POV of Feyre and Rhys.

**Chapter Three – Rhys**

"Hey! Are you even listening to us?"

"Of course he's not listening."

I hear my brothers talking about me and look up into Mor's far too knowing eyes.

"Oh," says Cassian as understanding dawns, "I get it. RSG."

"What?" I ask.

"Rhysand's secret girlfriend."

"It would be easier," chipped in Azriel, "If you told us her name."

"Yeah, you told Mor," Cass whines. "When do we get to meet her?"

"I shouldn't have told _any_ of you _anything_." I stand up, "We're done here." Technically, the meeting finished half an hour ago, when Amren left.

"Ah c'mon Rhys!"

But I am already out the door and not in the mood for Cass behaving like a child. I would have been less irritated if he hadn’t been correct.

The door has barely clicked shut before it opens again and Mor joins me in the corridor. "Everything OK?"

"RSG?"

She winces at my tone, "They don't mean any harm, you know that."

I shake my head and set off, Mor managing to keep pace beside me.

"So _have_ you heard from her?"

"No, you know I haven't." _And won't_ , I add silently. Mor sighs like she heard me anyway so I continue before she can tell me, again, to go over there. "It's a good sign - I said she could call if she needed me and obviously she doesn’t. It's better this way."

"Better for who? _Rhys_ , stop,” she pulls on my arm and I do as she asks. “Yes, we're all spending time with you again and I'm so grateful for that, don't get me wrong. But you barely laugh these days. You're _always_ thinking about her - don't pretend otherwise! And she's stuck with Tamlin of all people!"

I fail to interrupt Mor while she rants at me so instead I steer her into a quiet room where we won't be overheard.

"This is Feyre’s choice. I won't take that away from her."

"OK fine. Then move on."

"I-" Tipping my head back, I close my eyes and continue in a whisper, "I can't."

"Look," says Mor, putting her hands on my shoulders. For someone shorter than me she is impressively good at seeming tall. "I met her and she seemed great but she was the first person you've connected with since…" even Mor has trouble saying it, "since your mum and your sister died. It's not surprising that you're so invested in this. But-"

"Don't say it," I warn.

But she presses on regardless, " _But_ there are plenty of other people out there. Maybe it's time to give one of them a chance?"

"No. I'm not looking for a relationship, Feyre is just… special."

Mor begins to look slightly ill as she takes my hand but before I can ask if everything's OK with her, she says, "She's marrying him, Rhys."

"What?"

"Feyre is marrying Tamlin."

My heart is a brick in the ocean. "When?"

"I don't know but soon, I guess. It was in the paper."

"When?" I ask again.

She has the decency to look ashamed. "A month ago? I was hoping you'd move on naturally, and I could just tell you after."

I pull out a chair and sink into it. "I really didn't think she'd stay with him." I hear Mor sit down beside me.

"I know."

.o0O0o.

Finding Feyre in Tamlin's office was simultaneously one of the best and worst moments of my life.

When I'd found out she no longer worked at Bryaxis, I tried to bully the landlord into telling me about her – anything, even her name. But he wouldn’t.

Still, I'd looked for her. I tried every bar in the area and would have tried every restaurant too; I assumed she would have taken a similar job elsewhere. Never did I expect her to be working in the same industry as me. Never did I expect her to be working for my main business rival and long-term enemy.

I was so pleased to see her again that I almost let my mask slip. Relief washed over me - now I'd found her again my mind raced through all the things I wanted to say.

And then I saw the way Tamlin looked at her.

I felt cold and alone. And then hot with anger but still alone. Angry because not only did he have her, he was putting her in danger. _Amarantha would find out._ Worse still, while not understanding the risks, she promised to come to the conference Under the Mountain with Tamlin. Even knowing her name couldn't make up for that.

But even in my nightmares, I never predicted how far Amarantha might go if Feyre fought back.

.o0O0o.

At my desk, I look over the letter from Hyburn once again. Amren and I have analysed it word-by-word. There are creases now from the way I hold it, between a finger and thumb on both sides. Turn it into a one thousand piece jigsaw puzzle and I bet I could put it back together in no time.

I expected it, or something like it, but one false step from now on could be the end of Starfall.

Amarantha is being held until trial, where she will be represented by Hyburn - that was a surprise to none one, given their family history. And I knew she had planned ways of taking revenge if she ever needed them.

It was a trap I laid for her during her earliest days at Starfall. I knew she would want leverage over me so I allowed her to 'find' evidence of less-than-legal activity. Nothing was true but it had to be convincing, which will obviously make disproving it hard.

I allowed her to think she had me and the company in her pocket, and I waited for the opportunity to take out the trash. Amren was actually impressed, a first I think. But the details are five years old now so even knowing it is fake is not making our legal case easy.

Still, Hyburn would have come for me anyway. I hate to think what Amarantha could have planted if I hadn't made the job easy for her.

I sit back with a sigh, the conversation with Mor resurfacing in my mind. Feyre is getting married.

The rest of the office has gone for the day and through the window I can see the light fading; the setting sun is giving the Sidra a surface of gold.

I grab my coat and head out. I can reach the riverside path in less than five minutes. Mor was right, I am spending more time with family now but isolation is a hard habit to kick. This walk has become a regular occurrence.

When Amarantha arrived I moved everyone into a side project of mine that I have always kept private. She didn't know me personally so she didn't see the gaps they left in my life or my company.

Amren I thought might walk. She certainly didn't appreciate being pushed from accountant and business manager of a national publishing house to financial director of a small local charity.

My brothers and cousin were more hurt than angry, I think.

At the half-way point of my by walk, where I turn and head back to the office and from there on to my home, I look up at the nearest high rise building. Tamlin's building.

Tamlin has made it very clear just how unwelcome I am; though I let myself look up at a window I have decided is hers, this is as close as I go. Inside I ache as I put half the city between us.

I keep reminding myself that she isn’t _gone_ , just unreachable.

My cousin will hopefully be right, though I doubt she will openly celebrate as she normally would. I _will_ come to terms with Feyre marrying Tamlin. In time.

But I don’t think I could ever ‘get over it’ if she had died – even given all the time in the world. If my failings had been fatal I would never have forgiven myself.

.o0O0o.

Most of the people gathered are sat around a large table in Tarquin's meeting room. One wall is solid window, overlooking the Sidra as it meets the sea. 

The river has widened out and the tide is much stronger here, almost unrecognisable from the calm, slow-flowing ribbon that winds through our city. And we are barely an hour away. 

Tarquin's company specialises in translating works. They have done especially well from the renewal of co-operation since they outsource much of the production side to one of us. In return, the rest of us can now reach a wider audience if we translate a successful book through them. 

Our host is the poster child for the alliance but it is Tamlin who stands, staking his claim on the group. 

I'm happy to lean against the distant wall, hands in pockets, outwardly disinterested - just as they expect to find me. And I say nothing, I can learn more than enough by listening. 

Wading birds with long, thin beaks wonder past the windows and I admit, I'm finding them more interesting than this meeting. 

"Our alliance is doing well. I'd like to suggest from now on we officially call it the Archeron Alliance, in Feyre's memory."

_Feyre's memory?_ My heart constricts. She can't be dead, I'd know. _Surely I'd know_. But I have only newspaper headlines and hearsay to go by… 

When I trust my voice not to give me away, to sound bored and hide my sudden fear, I say, "Oh? In her _memory_ \- is she dead then?" 

"No," he snaps, baring his teeth in a classic Tamlin warning. He continues talking but I only needed the first word, I let his aggressive remarks roll over me unheard.

Only when Tamlin returns to lecturing the rest of the room do I allow myself to relax in relief. _Not dead._

Not mine but not dead and that is _much_ more important. 

I look up to find Lucien Vanserra giving me an odd look. I smirk back at him, which is enough to make him turn away, but he has unsettled me – he knows too much.

It is as the meeting draws to a close that someone finally brings up the topic I've been waiting for. Amarantha. 

"I am wondering if I'm the only person to have heard from Hyburn?" Helion asks, his eyes going from face to face to judge our reactions.

My face is unreadable, of course - one of my many talents. I smile inwardly at my own joke. I wish Feyre were here to call me a prick. 

"You're not alone." Tamlin once again takes control of the conversation. "I expect we've all got our lawyers working on it." 

"Ha!" Beron turns in his seat to looks pointedly at me, "I'll bet _he_ hasn't." 

I raise my eyebrows at his tone. "I've had my own letter, don't you worry."

It's true but I have probably got less to worry about than they do. 

I am the least favourite sibling only invited along to the family gatherings because it is the 'right thing to do'. Many of them hated me _before_ Amarantha. When the case against me collapses while theirs go to court, they _all_ will. 

.o0O0o.

I pause outside, looking out to sea and wondering briefly if I'd find it easier to move on if I _physically_ moved on. 

"Rhysand." I turn to find Lucien watching me again. His expression takes me back.

* * *

_When the helicopter leaves, taking Feyre and Tamlin, but not me, the pain in my chest is overwhelming. I throw up beside the road and then stand watching the stars until my legs give way._

_I need to stop the world, stop time, because right now she is alive but I can’t trust the universe not to take her from me._

_Kneeling close to the pool of her blood does nothing to ease the ache. The sound of the helicopter is trapped in my head even though the helicopter itself is long gone._

_"Rhysand."_

_Someone squats down beside me, a flash of red hair makes me flinch._

_"Rhys," the person says and this time I hear the voice not just the words. "You can't stay here."_

_In my head, I shout back all kinds of abuse along the lines of_ I can do whatever I want _but the truth is I can't even speak._

_Lucien holds out a hand to me, "We need to get to the hospital."_

_In the end, it is the way he says 'we', including me so easily, that makes me take the hand he is offering. Expect for rare contact with Mor and my recent connection with Feyre, I've been alone for too many years._

_I stand and Lucien doesn't even comment on the state of my hands or clothes as he helps me up._

_We walk back to the car park and I see the hotel staff are keeping the other guests, who must have heard the helicopter land, inside. I wonder how Lucien got through._

_We reach his car and I sit silently on the passenger side, watching. Because I'm noticing more now. Like the way Lucien's hands have a faint tremor and the tension around his eyes._

_"You care about her."_

_His face snaps towards mine, "So do you," he says it like an accusation._

_I hold up my hands, a peace gesture. "I'm just surprised."_

_"_ You're _surprised?"_

_I exhale in a way that could almost have been a laugh on a different day, but not today. Today laughter is not welcome._

_"OK. Fair enough." I think about my time with Feyre and realise that for most of that time we were alone. I worry that if she dies and no one else knows, it will somehow no longer be true. So I start talking. "I've known Feyre longer than she's been at Spring Publishing. I saw her before she saw me, lots of times, at a bar. She didn’t know that, until yesterday. And I care about her more than she knows too."_

_Lucien is staring, open mouthed. He has forgotten to start the car let alone drive us to the hospital. He closes his mouth but I can see he is still deep in thought. "I did wonder. The way she looked at you the day you came to see Tamlin, and the way she spoke to you - I wondered if you'd met before."_

_As if saying Tamlin's name was the reminder he needed, Lucien started the car, pulled out of the parking space and finally put the hotel car park behind us._

_"Tamlin will be mad at me for bringing you."_

_"Then why are you?"_

_Lucien smiled, "Because I think Feyre would be mad at me for leaving you behind."_

_The conversation fades, leaving me to once again think about the last image I had of Feyre: her broken body being lifted into the helicopter with Tamlin shouting at the paramedics._

_At the hospital, Tamlin finishes shouting at the doctor as we arrives and moves his anger onto me, eventually insisting that hospital security keep me outside._

_"Fine," I say and outside, I begin to pace._

_.o0O0o._

_I'm still pacing several hours later when Lucien appears. The sight of him makes me want to throw up again._

_"She's still in surgery." Maybe it is the contrast with his hair but right now he looks more like a patient than a visitor._

_"She strong." I hear myself say – I think we both needed to hear it. He nods and retreats back inside._

_She_ is _strong but I heard the sound of her body breaking as the car hit her, I can hear it still._

_For the first time I really let myself think about the internal damage that car must have caused. The external damage had been bad enough._

_"Please," I don't know who I'm begging to. "Please, let her be strong enough."_

_.o0O0o._

_Lucien squats beside me for a second time. "Rhys," he says softly, maybe he thinks I'm asleep, my eyelids are barely open. "She's going to live Rhys."_

_I nod and close my eyes, to keep back the tears of relief. "Can I see her?" My voice is rough as sandpaper._

_"He won't let you, you know that," I can hear the sympathy in his voice, my unlikely ally - for one night at least. "You should go home."_

_I go but I don't go home. I get a taxi and I go straight to Mor, even though it's not quite breakfast time and I didn't ring ahead. Because she's the only one who will understand what the last 24 hours really mean._

* * *

Lucien seems to know what I am thinking, “I haven’t told anyone.”

I nod, I believe him. It feels like it did that night - like we are on neutral ground here, while we are at neither Spring nor Starfall, so I ask, “How is she?”

He frowns, but not because he doesn’t understand or doesn’t want to answer. I feel my heart knocking against my chest because it should be an easy question, right? I mean, she’s marrying him so she’s happy, isn’t she?

“She’s-”

“Lucien!” Tamlin calls from the doorway behind us. If he grew fangs and claws right now, they wouldn’t look out of place with the rage on his face.

I see Lucien begin to move away and feel all the answers I need going with him but then he mutters, barely moving his mouth, “She’s fighting.”


	4. Feyre

**Chapter Four – Feyre**

I'm home alone, sat on the floor with my hands tight over my ears, while someone knocks, for a second time, on the door to Tamlin's flat. 

_Get up._ But I've already tried so I don't hold out much hope for this second attempt. 

"Hello?" a voice calls hesitantly from the other side of the door. Young, female, soft. The voice reminds me of Elain. I can hear the stranger turning away, can almost see the slumped shoulders and bowed head to match the shuffling steps. 

A sudden burst of energy has me on my feet and opening the door before I can overthink it all over again. I must look just as shocked as she does. 

Her skin is darker than mine and her eyes are darker too. She has a fierce beauty, more like Nesta than Elain. And she holds a bag to her chest, one of those reusable shopping bags. It is heavy, so she holds it from below.

"Hi," I say. It's been weeks since the burden of starting a conversation has been mine. I've forgotten how this works. 

"Hi," she replies, her smile uncertain. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I live downstairs, on the third floor, and I wondered if you'd have a look at a few things, maybe you'll want to buy them?" 

The way her hands grip the bag and her eyes look away - she is obviously embarrassed. Her speech is rehearsed too; her voice has a false-casual tone. I wonder how many other doors she has knocked on. 

The way she is already moving, preparing to leave, and the weight of the bag tells me a lot about her success rate. I know Tamlin would have sent her on her way long before now. 

_But_ Tamlin isn't here. 

"I'll look." I have no money but maybe there is some way I can help anyway. I know how it feels to be desperate.

And I know what comes _after_ selling possessions. 

She stares for a moment and then nods, opening the bag and kneeling down to spread out half a dozen old and well used things on the ground. 

There is nothing here that we need but I'm not really looking at the objects. I'm looking at her.

She is probably my age or a little younger. Older than I was when I walked the length of the city with my mother's books and jewellery, trying to find someone who would buy them from me. 

Older than I was when I sold my body to a stranger rather than see my family starve.

I wouldn't wish that on any one. 

"Who do you live with?" I ask, interrupting as she showed me the inside of a chipped wooden box, large enough to be a money box or hold keys maybe but not a lot else. I am also on my knees now and we are at eye level.

I can see her deciding what she will and won't tell me. "My mother and brother, he's three. I have older sisters but they don't live here."

Every feeling of worthlessness comes back to me. I remember the looks I got when I tried to sell items for food. No one does this unless they have no choice. "Why are you selling these things?" 

"My mother cannot work and we can't pay our rent." 

I look at the objects, "Nothing here is going to pay your rent." It’s blunt but it is the truth.

"No," she says firmly, "We are being evicted tomorrow. The money is to get us to my sisters by the coast."

I nod, that makes sense to me. And it is a relief to know this young person has help waiting out there. She doesn't carry the family's burden alone. 

"What's your name?" She is still unsure of me, I can see her hesitate. Maybe selling door-to-door is not allowed here. "I'm Feyre."

"Rei," she says finally, meeting my eyes. "So, will you buy anything?" 

"Wait a moment, Rei." I push back up to my feet and hurry to my room. I know what I'm looking for and find it quickly. 

Back at the front door I hold out the necklace. "Here. You should get a good price for it, enough to reach your sisters. I'm sorry that I don't have any money."

Rei doesn't move to take the necklace. "I'm not begging. I don't want charity." 

I remember the stubborn pride too, the need for independence. Rei keeps on reminding me of my younger self and that only makes me more desperate to help her. 

"Then we'll trade. This," I point to a bracelet made from woven coloured threads, "Can I buy this please? I have only this necklace, I'd pay you with money if I could." 

Rei looks at me for a long time but eventually she nods. "Thank you." She sees me fumble with the bracelet, trying to tie it around my wrist one handed, "Let me help."

I smile and watch her tie a complicated looking knot and demonstrate how to loosen the bracelet, if I want to take it off. 

"It's a friendship bracelet, my mother made them for all of us."

"This was yours," I say, not a question. 

"Yes, but now it’s yours. You are a friend of my family, Feyre."

It is a challenge to hold back tears. "Good luck, Rei."

.o0O0o.

I run my finger over the braided black, blue and silver strands. It’s several hours since I watched Rei go and retreated back into the sitting room.

All I can think is that I should have given more.

I have more than I need now but I wasn’t always as lucky – not until I arrived at Spring Publishing. Others gave me a hand up and now I could do the same for Rei and her family.

I feel stronger than I have done in weeks. Maybe it is the chance to do something about this inequality right under my nose, or maybe I’m strongest when I stand for others, not myself. Either way I am soon back at the door, this time with my pockets full of what my father would have called ‘portable wealth’.

I collide with Lucien as I try to leave the flat.

“Feyre!” He does nothing to hide his surprise. “Where are you going?”

“Downstairs,” I can’t help how shifty I sound but Lucien is distracted and doesn’t ask for further details.

“Tamlin is on his way up, does he know you’re going out?” The heat in my face answers for me. He sighs. “I think you should go out Feyre, I’ve said as much to Tam, but he’s not in a good mood. If he sees you leaving… well, you know how he gets.”

My chest swells as the anger rises. “He can’t keep me here.”

“No,” Lucien agrees, “But tonight isn’t the right time. I’ll speak to him again, I promise, but come back inside,” he glances over his shoulder, “Quick, before he gets up here.”

For every kindness he has shown me and for the apprehension visible in the way he stands half turned towards the lifts, I go back inside.

I hear Tamlin arrive, followed by sharp words directed at Lucien, making it clear that he is not welcome to stay for dinner.

I hear Lucien’s tired voice saying, “We were only talking,” but to little effect. When the front door opens only my husband-to-be enters. 

.o0O0o.

By dinner that evening, Tamlin’s mood has barely changed.

Today’s day trip to the coast was the first official meeting of the alliance between publishing firms and related industries.

There have been other meetings, some face-to-face though mostly conference calls. I’ve heard some of their discussions through the sitting room wall, not that I can remember anything that was said – I was only listening for one voice that never spoke.

Though he is polite with me, I can see Tamlin's attention is elsewhere. He won’t say what, or who, has upset him and he won't tell me why Lucien is not here. But when I ask about the alliance meeting, I do manage to draw him into conversation.

I don’t remember the last time I did this with Tamlin; my conversation with Rei has made me brave.

He proudly tells me that their alliance is being named the Archeron Alliance, in my memory, and that the meeting went as he’d planned.

I have no response; luckily he doesn't seem to need one. It was an odd phrase, _in my memory_ , it makes me feel lost for a moment.

“When you have your next meeting, can I come?”

“What?” Tamlin looked up from his meal, genuinely confused.

“I’d like to help.”

"Don't be ridiculous Feyre, you're not well."

I can feel my body folding in on itself but I fight it. "I'm not getting any better sat here day after day staring out the window." 

"Then paint or do something that will help." 

"What would help is going out - working or doing normal things."

"And when you have an episode? When everyone sees, what then? The answer is no Feyre, I'm protecting you from yourself." 

"Don't I get a say?" It’s only a whisper but it triggers an explosion in Tamlin. 

"You nearly died!"

“But I didn’t!” Unlike him, I’m not shouting, I just make sure that every word is clear.

Tamlin pushes his plate away with more force than necessary. He stands and passes me, leaving. I catch his hand. “Let me come back to work.”

He looks down at me coldly, “You’ve been replaced. I couldn’t do without an assistant so I hired someone else, she's doing very well. Your place is here.”

My hand drops and he goes.

I turn in my chair, away from my food and away from the door. I’ve been _replaced_. The word echoes in my head. I’m just a _memory_. Soon I’ll be forgotten.

The last of that new strength leaves me and it’s absence _hurts_. I may have only felt it for less than a day but this reminder of who I used to be – someone who helped others, someone who stood up for herself – just makes what I’ve lost more painful.

.o0O0o.

Tamlin has been describing his upcoming day for the last twenty minutes, while he eats and I push my breakfast around the plate. Every time he pauses I feel my heart beat faster and my toes curl inside my slippers. 

I'm trying to find the courage to speak but since I asked to return to work, two weeks ago, I have barely spoken. I’m out of practice. 

I force sounds out of my mouth, "CanIcome?" the words get squashed together in my rush and come out far too quiet. 

"Sorry?" 

I take a deep breath. "Can I come with you? I won’t get in the way." 

I watch as he swallows his mouthful and then smiles at me sadly. “We’ve talked about this, Feyre.”

“ _Please_ , I can’t stay here.” I hate this desperation, I wish I didn’t need to beg.

“This is your home.”

“And yours. _You_ go out, why can’t I?”

“You will, when you’re well again. How many times do we need to have this discussion?” He sees me open my mouth to argue and slams his hand down on the table, the sudden noise has me almost falling off my chair. “Enough Feyre! You’re not coming.”

I'm sure there would have been more but Lucien arrives in the doorway, having let himself in, and with one look at our faces, he reads the situation. 

"Tam, it's time to go." 

"Good." Tamlin pushes his empty plate away and stands. 

I push my plate away too and stand as well, feeling braver with Lucien here. "I'm coming too." Unfortunately, bravery doesn’t stop my voice from shaking.

"No. You. Are. Not!" 

"Tamlin!" Lucien tries to stand between us but he is knocked aside as Tamlin closes the space between us and locks his hand to my upper arm. His grip is hard enough to make me cry out, hard enough that I am too surprised to struggle as he drags me to the sitting room.

At the threshold he releases me with enough force to send me crashing into the coffee table.

I catch my head on the corner of the table and a sharp pain on impact. I recognise the warm trickle of blood on my forehead – like tears but starting too high up. 

When I look up, I see Tamlin, still angry and with no hint of regret. Lucien looks torn, wanting to come to me but ultimately choosing Tamlin's side. 

"You'll stay here." The door closes between us. As I allow the pain, mostly in my shoulder and head, to flow through me, I try to listen to Lucien's whispered protest on the other side of the door. I can't make out much. 

Then I hear the scrape of a key in the door and realise, too late, that he is _locking me in_. 

My mind replays the sound over and over - just like the sound of being locked into a hotel room whenever Amarantha didn't have a use for me. 

I want to scream but I can't even breath. My lungs gasp for air but nothing goes in.

I'm _trapped_. He has trapped me here, now and for the rest of my life. 


	5. Rhys

**Chapter Five - Rhys**

This meeting of my inner circle had been going on for two hours already, though it feels longer. Long enough that I find myself trying to attract Cassian's attention, knowing he will be just as bored as I am. 

Amren and Azriel are discussing our future plans, from a finance point of view, and I can see that even Mor is starting to switch off. 

Cass is directly opposite me - I can't catch his eye, because he is concentrating too deeply on whatever doodle he is drawing, but he looks up when I start to tap my pen on the table. 

I watch for Amren to be looking elsewhere and then pretend to mouth something to him. It's gibberish and I quickly look away as confusion blooms across his face. 

I may not be looking but I _know_ he is trying to recover eye contact, wanting me to repeat what I just said.

He is seen. "Cassian," Amren hisses, my lips twitch but hold in the smile. "If I'd wanted to invite children to this meeting I would have and _they_ would be better behaved than you." 

I may be the company director but I'm not beneath coming up with ways to get Cass into trouble. Especially when I'm bored.

Cassian is fuming at the way Amren has spoken to him, his face is flushed and the doodle is now a aper snowball in his fist. 

When my phone starts to vibrate I glance quickly down at the screen, ready to turn it off and avoid a telling off of my own curtesy of Amren. But the unknown number blinking up at me makes me pause. Very few people have my number and most of them are already in this room. 

I try to compress the rush of emotions, the strongest and most dangerous being hope. It is probably just a sales call or someone who has recently changed their number without telling me. It might _not_ be her. 

But it _could_ be. 

There is no way I'm letting this call go to voicemail, not if there is even the slightest chance… 

Amren scowls as I get up but it is my company. At the end of the day, if I want to answer my phone in a meeting I'll bloody well answer it.

Well, no, usually I wouldn’t. But this isn’t ‘usually’.

I can feel myself getting carried away; relief and excitement and nerves all twisting together so that a lack of coordination almost stops me answering on time. 

"Hello?"

The world's longest pause is all the response I get. Just like the pause when the person at a call centre is working multiple lines at once.

My heart sinks. And then I’m angry, but only with myself.

_She's getting married, she's not going to be ringing you._

Down the line I hear faint sounds of breathing. Odd - but my enthusiasm for this call has left me. 

I sigh, "I can hear you breathing." I expect the person to immediately hang up, _I_ should hang up. But they don't and neither do I. 

"Hello?" I try again. The sounds are muffled now, as if a hand has been pressed over a mouth.

Indecision holds me there, listening to the sound of someone’s breathing while that same someone listens to mine. 

Eventually, I say, "I'm going to hang up now," and find that I don’t want to. I add, "But, if you do want to talk then you can ring back later-" 

I've barely finished when the caller gasps, "Rhys!" It's not loud, it's not even clearly my name, but I know that it's her. 

" _Feyre_ ," I hear a shaky sob but she doesn't say any more. She doesn’t need to. "I'm coming, Feyre. Hold on, I'm coming." 

It hurts me to hang up first, after so long with no contact, but I need to phone the office to make sure the company car is here. Otherwise I'll need a taxi. 

I step back into the meeting room and all eyes turn to me. "Amren, finish this up without me. Mor, with me." 

My cousin doesn't argue and I fill her in as we go. 

.o0O0o. 

I tried to stay inside the car, out of sight, as we agreed, I really did. But Mor has been inside Tamlin's building for almost twenty minutes and I'm starting to think of every way this could go wrong… There are many. 

I pace up and down the pavement, keeping watch for Tamlin himself - the worse-case scenario is bumping into _him_ just as we get Feyre out. 

Sending Mor in alone was far from ideal but I know from past experience that the door staff here won't let me in. When Feyre was first home from hospital, I attempted to drop off flowers only to find my name and photo had been put on Tamlin's blacklist. 

Security here is tight. That Mor got in at all was a stroke of luck. I need our luck to hold.

When my cousin appears in the doorway, literally carrying Feyre, my chest tightens. All I can think of is her broken body on the road, on a stretched, in a helicopter... 

And then they are beside me. She looks so small, like a child. 

"I did as you said, exactly as you said." I'm staring, struck dumb. _How can she be so thin?_

"Rhys!" Mor's sharp tone and expression snap me back into action. I take Feyre carefully from Mor's arms and she going ahead of me to open the door to the car’s back seats.

Feyre's eyes, not quite closed, focus on me briefly. "You're OK now," I say, hoping that it's true. 

She is slight enough for me to slide into the car holding her against my chest. I think she tries to speak but I don't hear any words. Her hand closes around the fabric of my shirt. 

There is dried blood on her cheek. When I push back her hair I see significantly more blood, starting from a cut on her forehead and running down the side of her face, collecting in her ear. 

Scalp wounds bleed a lot, I remind myself. And it could have been an accident… But as Mor drives us away, I look down at Feyre - _really_ look at her. She looks worse than when I briefly visited her in hospital all those months ago. 

This was no accident. What I'm seeing is the result of ill health over a long period of time.

He _must_ have noticed.

I'm pretty sure Feyre is asleep now, she seems to be breathing easier at least. "Oh Feyre," I whisper, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head. "Why didn't you ring me sooner?" 

.o0O0o. 

Back at Starfall, it hits me like a brick wall that I have no idea what I'm doing.

I knew without words that Feyre was desperate and needed to get away from there. Her phone call was enough and the state of her physical and mental health is only further confirmation for me.

Still… technically I think we may have just abducted her. I'm certain Tamlin will see it that way.

Some instinct tells me that we should stay out of sight - the less people who know, the better. 

Starfall has underground parking, which, thankfully, is quiet right now. I lift Feyre once more and with my cousin as look out, we all make our way inside and towards an unused room.

This space was finished as an informal meeting room with two sofas and a coffee table between them. After instructing Mor to find a sign for the door, to keep people away, I settle Feyre on the more comfortable looking sofa. 

Then I turn to see Mor returning with a bowl of warm water and a clean sponge, both commandeered from the staff kitchen.

I nod, reaching for the bowl. My cousin, always a step ahead, almost as if she’d known I was worrying and in need of a job.

Slowly and carefully, I clear the side of Feyre’s face, wiping away the now-peeling, dried blood. I clear away the faint tracks of tears at the same time.

The task is soothing and my heart settles a little. As I turn the clear water rusty, I listen to Mor’s account of finding Feyre.

Following my advice, she told the security guard that she was a friend of Feyre's and had received a call saying that Feyre was unwell.

The guard took Mor straight up and when no one answered he let her into the flat. 

Knowing she would be accompanied upstairs was the only way I'd let Mor go in. My cousin can stand up for herself but I trust Tamlin about as far as I can spit. 

Neither Mor nor the guard could locate Feyre until a tapping drew them to the sitting room. The door was locked. 

Feyre wouldn't answer but both Mor and the guard could hear her in there, struggling to breath. 

That was the line for Mor, she called to Feyre, warning her to get clear of the door, and then kicked it in. The security guard couldn't stop her. 

I had to get my own breathing under control as Mor told me how she'd found Feyre - curled on the floor still holding the phone to her ear. 

I'll kill him, if Tamlin ever tries to hurt her again - not that I will be giving him the chance. I don't think Mor would hold back either. 

.o0O0o.

The working day is over now and almost everyone has left until tomorrow. 

Mor came by to suggest that I take Feyre home but I want that to be _her_ choice. This might be my place of work, and so not exactly neutral, but taking her to my house is much more personal. She should choose what happened next. 

Though I hope she will agree to come home with me when she wakes. I don’t really have a plan B.

The light in the room drains away, taking my energy with it. I slump onto the second sofa, done with pacing for now, but I don't sleep. 

Just as I'm wishing I had some food, Feyre begins to tremble. I can't tell if this is due to feeling cold or fear but her eyes open and she make a tiny frightened sound.

I move swiftly and drop to my knees beside her. "Feyre, you're safe now." She turns her head to look at me so I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. "You're safe," I repeat, and when I notice how often she blinks I add, "Sleep now, we can talk when you're feeling better." 

Feyre half nods and pulls her legs up into her chest. Since the shaking hasn't abated, I look around for a blanket. There isn’t one; my coat will have to do. 

Before I put it over her I notice again how fragile she looks. I could wrap one hand around her arm and snap it like a stick.

She is pale too, at odd with the recent good weather; I wonder when she last went outside.

Mor appears behind me carrying sandwiches and a feast of unhealthy snacks. I can feel her watching me as I tuck the coat around Feyre legs. 

“I'm so sorry," Mor whispers. 

“Why are _you_ sorry? You got her out.”

“Only after I tried to convince you to move on, to forget about her. I'm sorry Rhys. I should have told you to go get her before this happened.”

I stand. “No Mor, this isn't on you. She should have been safe with Tamlin.” My cousin continues to look down at Feyre sadly. I catch her hand and squeeze gently. 

"Do you want me to wait with you?" 

"No, go home, get some rest."

She nods and hugs me before leaving. 

.o0O0o.

Sitting back in my seat and watching Feyre closely for signs of distress, I make myself promise to do better. 

There was once a beautiful young woman who smiled and verbally spared with me at a bar. She was brave when no one else was and she woke up my sleeping heart without trying. 

She is still hauntingly beautiful but her strength and her spirit have been taken from her. 

But I will do everything I can to help her get them back. 


	6. Feyre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a day late so I'm very sorry! However, I have just gotten around to reading the Throne of Glass series and it was a choice between finishing this chapter or finishing book two :) hopefully that is a good excuse.

**Chapter Six - Feyre**

I wake slowly and as I gain conscious awareness of my surroundings, I also gain a throbbing in my head. Like a hangover without the alcohol. 

I squint around me, taking in details one at a time, starting with the sofa I'm lying on and extending slowly further out. A wide coffee table set low to the ground. Another sofa. _Rhys_. 

He is still but not as a statue is; everything about Rhys radiates life, even when he is asleep. Yet his face is unmoving and his chest barely rises with each breath. His head is tipped forwards and his eyebrows are drawn together in the beginnings of a frown. He looks concerned… for me?

I try to move - only a fraction so as to roll my shoulders, but even that slight adjustment is enough. His eyes snap open, focused instantly on me. _He was waiting - never asleep._

As I'm realising this, I can see him realising that I'm now awake. The frown vanishes leaving his face neutral, a blank slate - ready to be whatever I need him to be.

Saying hello seems foolish but starting with _where am I?_ or _how did I get here?_ feels rude. Besides, I remember some of what happened yesterday. 

I know _he_ locked me in. Tamlin.

I know I panicked and that my own body fought against me - tightening my chest to block the air from getting in, shutting down my vision, making my limbs too heavy to lift. 

I know that, somehow, I rang Rhys and that even after I managed to speak, and he promised to come, I still didn't believe that _anyone_ in the world was going to help me, _could_ help me.

I was more alone than I’ve ever felt, curled up on the carpet, hugging the phone. 

And then Mor arrived, like a vision plucked straight out of my memory. I'd met her once before, at Bryaxis, I remembered her laugh and her long golden hair.

 _Somehow_ she had gotten into Tamlin's flat and _somehow_ she carried me right past the security guard and out of the building. I could feel the vibrations from her chest as she spoke and I saw the shocked faces of the people who stepped aside as we passed. 

No one stopped her taking me! I could have cried in relief if I hadn't already cried myself out. 

Finally outside, the cold breeze across my face slapped some sense back into me. I was building myself up to speak, to ask if I could try walking… and then there was Rhys. His eyes angry and his shoulders tense. Again, I felt Mor speaking and then I was passed into his arms...

Months of telling myself I'd never see him again. Months of shutting down any feelings before they could form and blocking out the memories. Willing myself to believe Tamlin’s version of events until I'd accepted that Rhys had never cared about me.

It was all undone the moment he held me and the anger in his eyes melted away leaving something I couldn't name in its place. 

I felt warm, safe and suddenly very tired-

And then I woke up here. 

He is just watching me, patiently waiting while I process all that has happened and is still happening now. 

Outside the window it is dark with just a hint of sunlight - so early evening or, more likely, early morning. 

Carefully I push myself up and swing my legs down, sitting across from him. I keep the blanket – no, _coat._ His coat? - around my shoulders for warmth. It smells of him, like the sea and safety. 

"How are you feeling?" 

Though his voice presses uncomfortably against my aching brain, I try not to show my discomfort. But he's not fooled. There is a soft understanding in his eyes as he passes me a bottle of water, "You're probably dehydrated." 

I drink, pause and then drink some more. It helps. "Where am I?" My voice is hoarse and so quiet. 

A pause. "Starfall. There's no one here now and not many people work here anyway, I outsource to local businesses and artists rather than doing everything in-house." He is rambling. I see the way his hands tighten their grip on his knees and his eyes look anywhere but at me.

My brain is still processing things a little slow but to me, Rhys looks worried. I wonder if he thinks I'll be cross about being here. _I’m not_ , I realise. I trust Rhys.

"Thank you." I surprise him into looking back at me. "You and Mor, you got me out. Thank you." 

I'm lost in his eyes and from the way he is gazing back at me I wonder if he isn't also lost in mine. 

"Anything," I think I hear him say but when I frown he says, a little louder, "No problem. I did say you could call if you needed me." He smirks. 

He may be trying to lighten the mood but there is another question I need answered. 

"Are you going to take me back?" I don't look at him but I sense him moving, stepping around the table and sitting down on it. He is close enough to take my hands between his. The table being lower puts us almost at the same height. 

"You never have to go back there. If you ever _want_ to go back, then I will take you but I'm never going to force you and I won't let him force you either."

I close my eyes and bow my head slightly. "He won't just let me go." 

I feel the warmth of his breath and then his forehead is resting lightly against mine. When he speaks, his voice is pained. "I should have known things weren't right, I'm sorry Feyre."

"No. I had your number, I could have called sooner." 

He says nothing for a moment. "It takes courage to stand up for yourself but it can take even more courage to ask for help. You were very brave yesterday. Don’t second-guess what came before.” He pulls away and my eyes flutter open. “There is no need to beat yourself with the metaphorical what-if-stick, life can be hard enough as it is.”

“Ok.” He’s right, the past is done but my worries about Tamlin linger, I wonder if they will forever lurk at the back of my mind.

Rhys interrupts my thoughts, “Would you like to come home with me? I have a spare room.”

Again, I can feel his anxiety but I don't fret over it. My answer comes easily, “Yes. Thank you.”

He smiles and offers his hand. “Let’s get going.”

At the door I stop us. “I don't have _anything_.”

He squeezes the hand he holds. “You don't need anything right now. Later we can get what you need, even if that means getting your things back from Tamlin.” I'm shaking my head violently against that suggestion. “Don't worry for now. Anything you need you can borrow.” As an afterthought he says, “I have very reasonable rates, just one smile for everything you need.”

I offer him a wobbly approximation of a smile, it seems to do for now. 

When we reach Rhys' car, my eyes scan every aspect, so different to one of Tamlin's cars. This car is lived in yet looked after. It’s relatively new but nothing marks it out as special. This car does just what its owner has: it puts me at ease.

When I've finished looking, I find Rhys watching me, "Everything OK?"

I nod, he waits for me to say something but I don't. I can hardly tell him about how I was comparing his car to one of Tamlin's. How close I am to comparing _him_ to Tamlin.

As Rhys drives us away from Starfall, I feel a growing sense of embarrassment.

In the cold light of day, literally, I realise that we aren't friends, never were friends – not really.

He was someone I spoke to during my working life at Bryaxis. I found him entertaining and attractive but I kept a professional line between us. It _could_ have been more, but it never _was_ more than that.

Then Rhys turned up at Spring, back in my life and with a name this time. And soon after that we were all Under the Mountain.

Rhys was the only person there who looked out for me but he wasn't always kind about how he did it. I remember the way his shifting personalities left me feeling travel sick – how I used to dread his Rhysand persona. 

Yet he saved my life, even Tamlin won't deny that. 

Somewhere along the way, he wove himself into my very being. I've always found peace when I look at the stars but now I can't look at the stars without thinking of him. And now he's letting me stay in his home. 

Even though we're not friends... This is making my head hurt.

I don't notice that the car has stopped until I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You can always change your mind.”

I look at his face, calm and patient. In my head I take a thought and re-write it: we’re not friends _yet_.

I nod and finally look at the street. A long row of townhouses all so beautifully built that I know we must be deep in the oldest part of Velaris.

Standing on the pavement, I can faintly hear the river Sidra, picking up speed as it enters the final stretch of its journey out to sea.

The front doors are close together making the houses look usually thin.

Rhys lets us in and now, standing the hallway, I can see that I was right, the house is narrow though not excessively so. But what it lacks in width it more than makes up for in length and height. 

Down the corridor in front of me I can see a kitchen with dining table, to suit a family who like to cook and eat together. Beyond that are a set of double doors, which probably open onto a garden, though I can see nothing of the garden itself from here. 

On this level I can also see a small living room and the staircase, which begins on my right but curves to the left and continues out of sight. By leaning slightly I can see there are at least three floors. 

"You live here alone?" 

"Technically yes but my family seem to treat this as their home too, so I rarely have the place to myself." 

As if on cue, a group of people in the middle of a heated argument arrive at the front door and, on finding it bolted, proceed to bang on the door to get Rhys' attention. 

He grins and then steps between me and the door. "As much as I want you to meet my family they can be a bit overwhelming at first, for today you are more than welcome to disappear upstairs-" 

"We can hear you in there, you prick. Let us in."

I freeze. _That voice_. I know that voice.

I push a now slightly dazed Rhys aside and stare at the door. Through the thin glass panel I can see enough to confirm my suspicion. 

"Cassian?" I call and I see him duck slightly to look through the glass. 

"Feyre!" I'm already opening the door and as he finishes saying my name I throw my arms around his neck. "Feyre," he says again, hugging me back, "I thought-" 

"I know, I sorry. I'm so sorry Cassian."

"What's going on?" comes Rhys' voice from behind me. Somewhat guiltily I release Cassian and step back. But he is clearly not speaking to me. 

Cassian looks between Rhys and me and then takes a step away. I feel like they are communicating telepathically. And I don't like it. 

But then Mor, the golden haired cousin arrives and when she sees me, she pulls me into a tight embrace as though we too are old friends. 

_Well, she did rescue me_ , I think and return the hug. 

Mor seems to have picked up on the atmosphere because she drags me towards the kitchen, leaving Rhys, Cassian and another man I've never met together by the front door. 

I hear Rhys say, "What the fuck?" just as Mor takes me out of earshot. But he doesn't sound angry, he sounds hurt. 


	7. Feyre

**Chapter Seven - Feyre**

The kitchen is long and thin, just like the house. At the far end I can see the usual combination of cooker, fridge and other appliances. Immediately beside me is a narrow dining table made from wood that has been stained a dark brown, showing up the grain beautifully. Instead of chairs, two benches run on either side. 

Mor pulls out the nearest bench, drops down onto it and grabs an apple from the fruit bowl. She looks at me, still hovering by the doorway.

“They’ve gone back outside so you won’t be able to hear them from there.” It’s true – I had heard the front door click closed as Mor had sat down. Reluctantly, I join her on the bench.

“What are they talking about?”

She looks at me sideways, grinning, “You, I should think.” She takes another bite of the apple and I watch her as she chews. Before I can work out what to say, Rhys opens the front door and quickly appears in the doorway behind me.

“We’re heading back to Starfall. Mor can you show Feyre her room and help her get settled?”

 _He’s leaving?_ My eyes flick between the two cousins, each carefully studying the other. Again I get the feeling that Rhys can communicate with others without words.

“If that’s alright with Feyre,” Mor looks to me, passing the choice on to me. I can see her hoping that I will say yes and Rhys seems suddenly eager to go…

“O-kay.” I say slowly, “Will you be back later?”

Our eyes meet - if I hadn’t taken every opportunity to study his face in the past, I may not have noticed the traces of hurt lingering in his eyes now. But noticing doesn’t help me to understand.

“Of course. I’ll see you both later.” He even smiles, which he has barely done since I woke up this morning, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Only when the front door has shut once again does Mor turn to me, eyebrows raised. “So, how do you know Cassian?”

“Why is Cassian even here?” I ask in reply.

Mor laughs, “Well, I can fill you in on our unconventional family and then you can tell me the story of how you met Cass.” I shrug and give her half a smile. Yet, even in agreeing to this trade of information, I know Mor won’t hold me to it. My secrets are my own unless I _want_ to share them.

Mor swings herself round to straddle the bench and waves her arms as she does it as if conducting an orchestra, “Once upon a time little Rhys lived in this big, old house with his mother and father.”

I snort, “Is there a short version?”

She gives me a wicked grin, “Very well. But it’s your loss.” I feel myself smiling back at her, the first genuine smile I’ve felt on my face in too long. “Rhys did grow up in this house and then when he was about seven his parents adopted Cassian. A few years later they adopted Azriel too. So that’s why Cass was here, they’re brothers.”

“And Azriel is…”

“The guy who turned up with Cass just now. Keep up! They don’t live here anymore but we all stay here a lot. _I_ ,” she theatrically gestures to herself, “am Rhys’ cousin. I used to live here too, through most of my troubled teenage years.” Though her expression remains unchanged throughout, I see a flicker of darkness pass over her features at the mention of her younger years. She may play it down but that look tells me enough to know Mor has faced challenges of her own.

“And his parents?”

Her smile falls. “Dead.” No elaboration and I don’t ask. But Mor doesn’t let the mood drop for long. “So that’s our family. There are plenty of spare rooms here but I’ll make sure you get the nicest.” She winks at me.

I process this new set of connections while Mor finishes her apple.

“So,” she says, “How do _you_ know Cass?”

Curiosity aside, her face says I can choose not to answer and she won’t hold it against me. But I am comfortable with Mor, at ease with her and the conversation. It just takes me a moment to find the best starting point for my story.

“I used to think I could do anything but about a year ago I found myself in a couple of… difficult situations. It made me realise I wasn’t as invincible as I’d thought. So I checked out a few gyms and at one of them I met Cassian. I didn’t like him to begin with – I thought he was an arrogant ass.” Mor laughs at that. “But he offered to train me and I guess we became friends pretty soon after that.”

“Cass doesn’t do much training these days,” Mor says, with a far-away look in her eyes, “He has some kind of code, says he’ll only work with good causes.” My face burns red but because she is looking elsewhere, my embarrassment goes unseen. “But, I remember he was training someone, _you_ I guess, a while back. And then-” Her face snaps back to mine. “He was worried about you.”

She doesn’t say it accusingly but I still feel the need to say, “I’m sorry.”

Mor puts a hand on my shoulder, “It wasn’t your fault, he’ll understand that. No one could have predicted what’s happened to you over the last few months.”

I suddenly find the way my fingers have knotted together in my lap incredible interesting. I don't want to talk about what's happened to me. I don't even want to think about it.

Without warning Mor springs to her feet, “What to go see your room now?”

We head upstairs and by the time the room is sorted out, and Mor has made a list of the extra things I need, over half an hour has passed. I am ushered back down to the sitting room and a mug of tea is pushed into my hands.

“I’ll give you some time alone, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,” Mor says and I smile gratefully.

It's only once she’s gone that I remember fragments of a conversation with Cassian about a cousin he had trained after a difficult time in her life. A cousin he had said I reminded him of.

Mor.

.o0O0o.

I curled up at one end of a large sofa, tucking my feet under me and cradling the hot mug between my hands. I'm not cold, I doubt this place is ever cold, but the hot drink is comforting all the same. 

I become so lost in thought that I don't hear anyone arriving back. The first I know is when the sofa dips as someone sits down at the far end.

I look over and see Cassian. His face is sombre and it hits me again how long it's been since I saw him last. Since I promised to come back. 

"You scared the shit out of me Feyre." I try to interrupt but he holds up a hand, silencing me. "I know why you didn't come back and I'm not angry, just so _so_ happy that you're here now."

I'm crying and he moves, taking the drink from my hands before folding me into his arms. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Shh, it's OK. More than OK. I've spent months worried about what might have happened to you and now your _here_. You're one of us." He smiles and wipes the tears off my face. 

I give him a wobbly smile and rest my head on his chest. For several long minutes we just sit and it’s peaceful and exactly what I need. There is only one other person I feel so comfortable sitting in silence with...

"What happened with Rhys earlier?" 

Cassian sighs, "We all knew about you and what happened Under the Mountain." I flinch and Cass tightens his arms around me in a silent apology. "Rhys told us most of it, he couldn't hide how messed up he was over everything. But he never said your name, except to Mor maybe. I didn't know my Feyre was the same person who'd freed Rhys, it never crossed my mind for a moment."

Cassian tips his head back against the sofa. I can tell he wants to say more. I wait. "I think Rhys was shocked that we knew each other." 

" _Understatement_!" 

"OK, more than shocked," he corrects, "But the two of you went through hell together. You can relate to each other more than to any other people. I guess he was worried that I'd take you away," I can sense the smile before I look up and see it, "I think Rhysie is worried you like me more than him."

I push Cassian away, push away the teasing look in his eyes, in part because I'm worried there may be more truth to that than Cass is letting on.

Was Rhys _jealous_ that I knew Cassian already? 

“Is Rhys here?”

“No.” He sighs, “After we talked, he really did go back into work. I think he needed space to think - Rhys does his thinking alone these days.” Cassian sounds so sad that I just find his hand and hold it gently.

There are things I need to say, so I gather my courage, staring down at the fabric weave of the sofa. 

“I let you down.” Cassian looks round at me in surprise. “Everything you taught me, all that time you spent helping me, it was all for nothing… when I needed it, I just _forgot_. I forgot that I was strong; I forgot I could defend myself. Amarantha caught me so fast and there was nothing I could do but wait to die.”

“Feyre, Feyre.” I can feel Cassian shaking as he pulls me close again, holding me against his chest. “It wasn’t for nothing. I spent time with you because you’re my friend but I don’t think you forgot. You _survived_ , Feyre, you _were_ strong.”

I’m shaking my head, he can’t see but he can feel the movement against his chest. “I was lucky Cass, I got to hospital in time-”

“No, its wasn't just luck. But I wasn’t talking about the car. Tamlin locked you away for months but you _survived_ , you fought back, you called Rhys. You’re one of the strongest people I know Feyre, you haven’t let me down – never think that.”

.o0O0o.

Cassian and Mor both manage to raise my spirits and keep conversations light for the rest of the day.

The three of us eat together in the evening and although I struggle with the amount on my plate, nobody comments.

My companions shared a significant look when I asked if Rhys would be joining us, one that I read to mean they didn’t know either. In the end, he doesn’t show. I can't help but think he is avoiding me. This is his home and I've forced him out of it...

When Cass heads home later he hugs me tightly and tells me not to worry about Rhys. I am struggling to follow his advice.

Mor has decided to stay over (also because of me, is there anyone who's life I'm _not_ disrupting?) and though she has gone up to her room, I have stayed downstairs, waiting.

.o0O0o.

The front door opens and closes quietly within moments of the hallway clock chiming eleven.

I hear Rhys putting his keys on a table by the door. I know he will look into the sitting room, to turn the light off if nothing else, so I wait and less than a minute later he is framed in the doorway. 

"Late night?" I ask, hoping he will join me. There is a moment of doubt as he considers, then Rhys moves to the sofa and sits at end furthest from me. 

"Just catching up on work."

"Are you behind because of me?" 

"No," he answers quickly, "but there is always more to do." 

He doesn't expand any further or ask any questions of me. I am anxious and too tired to be subtle. "Have I done something wrong?" 

"No Feyre, lots of things are wrong but not you." 

"Stop talking in riddles Rhys, I don't like riddles." I see him flinch just as the memory comes back to me. "I didn't mean it like that."

We lapse back into silence but it still feels like he is holding back. "Is there something we need to talk about then?" _Someone_ , I think to myself. If he makes me ask again I'm just going to come out and say it. 

He sighs heavily, putting his head in his hands, "I needed some time to think. You having a history with Cassian - it threw me a little."

"It's a small world."

"And it keeps on getting smaller," he mutters.

"I think that's a good thing," my voice is barely more than a whisper. 

An unfamiliar fear is spreading through me. I don't want to lose what we almost had this morning, that potential for friendship. I don't want the connection we had Under the Mountain to be just a product of frustration. This new distance between us hurts. 

"If-" my voice shakes so much I have to pause, breathe and then try again. "If the world wasn't so small I may never have met you - _twice_. Without you, I wouldn't have found Cassian again. And if the world wasn't so small then the person I trusted most before Amarantha wouldn't know the only person I've trusted since Amarantha, they wouldn't be friends - more than friends actually, _family_. All that sounds like a good thing to me."

I hate my eyes right now and the way they are filling with tears. 

"I don't want to lose you but even more I don't want to come between you and Cassian. I'm sorry Rhys."

At some point he has shifted along the sofa until he is close enough to put an arm around my shoulder and pull me to him. "I'm sorry Feyre, I was being dumb." 

"I can go, I can find somewhere else to stay."

"No," his voice is firm, "Stay, please." His hands move in circles on my back as I nod against his shirt. "Thank you." I don't understand why _he's_ thanking _me_ , but I'm too tired to think about it now.


	8. Rhys

**Chapter Eight - Rhys**

Maybe it was her skin, separated from mine by only a thin shirt, as I ran my hand up and down her back. Maybe it was her scent, which still lingers on my clothes as proof that she is really here, in my home. Or maybe it was the overwhelming sense of relief I felt as she pressed her head against my chest. Whatever the reason, the fist which holds my heart seems to have relaxed its grip for a moment.

Last night I didn't sleep, only allowing myself to rest my eyes from time to time, as Feyre slept. And today hasn't been the easiest so I should be asleep by now. Yet I've been lying here for hours.

I turn on my side. Maybe it's not Feyre keeping me awake but punishment for my reaction to Cassian. It only took a few minutes to hear his version and on some level I understood at once - of course they are friends, I'd known they would get on since I met her in Bryaxis. But I still spent the rest of the day remembering the way she threw her arms around him, the easy physical contact between them.

Logically, it makes sense: all the hours they've spent at the gym together verses the handful of short interactions I've shared with Feyre. It's no wonder she doesn't feel that way with me. I scowl and turn onto my back once more.

Feyre is allowed to be friends with whoever she wants and it's not a competition. But if it was... 

I roll out of bed with a sigh and walk to the window. The stars. A reminder of a time I shared with Feyre, a reminder of _her_ if I am being honest. I can't look up at the constellations above Velaris, tonight partially hidden behind clouds, without thinking of her.

If I'd known one week ago that today I would have guided her upstairs to my best spare room, our rooms separated only by a shared bathroom, I would have said that was enough. Not just safe but in my house - after so many months of not knowing how she was, this is a blessing. Even if she chooses Cassian, this is enough.

I return to bed, to rest even if I cannot sleep. As I did last night, I close my eyes but keep a sharp awareness of my surroundings.

.o0O0o.

I have no concept of how long I lie there before the first sounds of distress reach me. _Feyre_. I'm on my way before I can overthink the decision. Even when I reach her side, I hesitate only for a moment. 

Her face is twisted into the sheets and her skin is pale. I brush damp hair away from her eyes and bring her out of her nightmare as gently as I can, whispering her name into her ear.

Feyre looks up and around her room widely, forgetting where she is and how she got here. Her eyes find mine and beg me, but I don't know what she needs until a hand covers her mouth. 

"Next door, the toilet's-" She's gone, racing from the room. I follow, hoping it won't be an invasion of her privacy. But I'm not certain Feyre even knows that I am here, holding her hair and stroking her back.

When she is done, she stays hunched over the toilet, crying. It's painful to watch but I'd never leave her alone like this.

Eventually I turn her in my arms, holding her close as she continues to cry. She grips my shirt tightly enough to damage the fabric. 

We are both kneeling. I sit back and take her with me, until she is on my lap and curled up against my chest. The tremors that have racked her body since she woke seem to be easing but I rock her gently until I am sure. And then longer because she clings to me like no one has ever held her after a nightmare...

When Feyre is calm and sleeping, I carry her back to her room and slide her back into bed, carefully arranging the covers in a selfish attempt to stay longer. 

Despite the rules I set for myself, I know what I feel for Feyre. Maybe that dooms me to the same kind of pain that I've felt (and barely survived) before. But it's too late now. 

.o0O0o.

Cassian drops on the bench and throws his arm over Feyre's shoulder. I note every point of contact but when he glances at me, I look swiftly away.

Cassian doesn't usually join me for breakfast.

"Want to go for a run?" She looks up in surprise, they didn't agree this yesterday then. 

"I don't have anything to wear." She speaks slowly, like this is only part of the issue. I could take a guess at the real problem - I've felt how thin she is. 

"I have your kit," Cassian steals toast off her plate as a distraction, Feyre swipes at his hand but misses. 

She doesn't fall for the toast distraction though. "Why have you got my kit?" 

Cass rubs the back of his neck, "The gym had to clear your locker when you didn't come back. I claimed your things, in case you got back in touch."

She's looking at him the way Amren looks when I give her jewellery, but he's offering her a gym bag and trainers. 

"Thank you," she whispers and I look away, feeling the outsider in this conversation.

I suddenly find an old cutting on the table (saved by Mor and promptly forgotten) incredible interesting. So interesting that I don't look up when Feyre disappears off to get changed or when the pair of them leave the house. 

When the silence is all I am left with, I realise the cutting is upside down. 

.o0O0o.

Feyre is quiet and finds a spot in the sitting room, alone, when she gets back from the run. Cassian is nowhere in sight.

I might have felt a small twinge of pleasure that the run was so obviously a flop, except that I get no pleasure in Feyre feeling unhappy - she's had more than her fair share of that already. 

I give her twenty minutes, hoping she will seek me out, and then I move from the kitchen to join her.

"You OK?" She looks at me blankly from across the room but I know she has heard and understood so I don't repeat myself. I try a different question. "I'm heading out soon, there's something at work I need to do in person. Would you like to come?" 

This time I see conflict in her eyes just before her face seems to collapse in on itself. She hides behind her hands. "Does it involve much walking? Turns out I can't even do that." 

Now I understand. I move to her sofa, closer but not as close as I'd like. "You will be able to. Soon, I promise. Once you're eating and sleeping normally again, once you've spent more time outside and less time feeling afraid. You can do anything Feyre, you don't need to rush it."

I see her peak at me from between her fingers. "And what if I can't get better?" 

I take her hands in mine and pull gently until we are both standing up. "What if getting better isn't the destination but the journey? Take one step and see how it goes." 

Feyre gives me a wry look, "And would this 'one step' be going to work with you by any chance?" 

I give her my most winning smile. "That sounds like a great idea, let me show you the library." 

Feyre sighs dramatically but doesn't object. 

.o0O0o.

I find myself anxious and counting slowly in my head to allow Feyre time to look around at the layers of bookshelves arranged in a descending spiral. As we move deeper in, we pass through the many different sections of the library and pass by many of the quiet work spaces and hidden reading corners.

I pause frequently because I don't want Feyre to come away from here feeling any sense of failure, as she had done this morning on her run. 

Cassian told me, when I asked, that she had barely been able to walk their old route, he sounded surprised. I'm not - looking at her now, she is barely more than skin stretched over bones and she's not been allowed outside for months.

She needs to learn to walk before she can run again. I'm wondering if she can't learn some other things along the way too. 

We stop at a railing, two flights above the main floor space of the library. 

"I opened this library when I was twenty, before I took over running Starfall." The story, told in a whisper, is partially to give her a chance to rest and partially to share a part of myself with her. "I was very fortunate to grow up with parents who valued education and could afford for me to have every opportunity. But I've never felt that was right. My chances in life shouldn't have been set by my parents' income.

"I started this library wanting it to be open to everyone but I haven't managed that yet, it’s still invitation only. It's run as a charity. We offer support to adults and free tuition to children who needed it - starting with children in care, kids with similar backgrounds to Cassian and Azriel, before my parents took them in.

"But I want to reach out to more children. No child in Velaris should have to choose between learning and eating."

I hesitate. Feyre knows I'm aware of her past but she never chose to tell me. Amarantha took that choice away from her. 

"Maybe you aim too high," she replies. "There will always be children who grow up without the opportunity to learn. Education is a luxury."

"Maybe I can't help everyone but I want to try to give every child the choice at least." My words come out sounding more defensive than I mean them too. I must just sound idealistic to her. 

Feyre leans into my side. "It's wonderful Rhys. I don't know if I'd have had the courage to come here but I know I would have wanted to. Maybe I wouldn't have fallen so far behind if the right help had been there at the right time."

"Your insight would be so helpful. I know you're so much more than a case study but I have youth workers based here, working on how to engage children who've fallen so far behind they've given up on learning all together. Maybe when you're feeling better you could talk to them?"

It's all true but what I've seen in Feyre yesterday and today is a lack of self-belief. Tamlin has made her think her only purpose was to stay home and wait for him, she no longer sees what she has to offer the world - she doesn't see what I see.

"You want me to tell strangers about my past?"

I meet her eyes. "I would only want you to say what you felt comfortable saying. You have nothing to be ashamed of but... now might not be the time to tell your story, and that's OK."

Her lips are pinched shut. Maybe it's all too much.

I'm about the change the subject when she says, "I don't know what I'd say. Could I paint instead?"

This is not at all what I'm expecting, but in whispered words and with flushed cheeks, Feyre tells me that she always been able to say how she's feeling through art. And as I listen to her tell me what it feels like to paint I forget the library around us, forget the whole city.

My world narrows to one person and that person is her. If I'd been unsure before, it hits me again in this moment - I am in love with her. 

By the time we reach the ground floor, my plan has changed. I had been going to offer this as a place to learn to read, with the help of the tutors who already work here. Now, though, I take her to an empty space previously used as an office, when I had needed to keep my family out of Amarantha's view. 

"Could you turn this into a studio?"

She looks at me in surprise and with eyes full of a hope that bordered on fear. " _What_?" 

"This room isn't in use at the moment, could you use it? Could you produce some artwork specifically aimed at young people in a similar situation to yours?"

"You've never seen my work, I might be rubbish."

I find it hard not to laugh, I don't believe I could ever think anything she did was rubbish. But this is a genuine fear for her. "Why don't we agree on a six week trial then? This space will be empty for at least that long so we can review when we have some of your work to consider."

"You'd give me a studio for six weeks for free?"

 _I'd give you anything._ "On the condition that any work produced could be used by the library without charge. And if we can tie in with the tutoring project all the better. I can have a contract written?"

Feyre flings herself at me in a hug that makes every time she's hugged Cassian instantly fade from my memory. 


	9. Rhys

**Chapter Nine – Rhys**

By the time we arrive at the library the next day, a delivery of painting supplies and equipment had already been delivered and stacked neatly in the empty office.

Feyre complained at first "You give me somewhere to stay, then you give me a studio and now all this! Rhys, it's too much."

It is hard not to tell her everything. Instead I say, “You’ve given me my life back. Amarantha controlled my life and because of you I’m free. This is nothing in comparison.”

Her eyes widen at my confession. I know she is remembering the name others used for me, _Amarantha’s whore_ , but I don’t want her pity.

I quickly move us on to practical matters, drawing a line under the issue of the paint supplies and silently daring her to erase it.

She hesitates but she accepts the gift with a nod and then together we move tables and construct the easel, unwrap sketch books and set out paint bushes. I enjoy the task, letting her direct me. Feyre is flushed as we work but she seems happy rather than tired.

When everything is ready, she asks me more about the library; Feyre listens carefully with eyes half glazed, never interrupting but occasionally nodding to herself at something I’d said. I wish I could see what her mind was doing with the information I am feeding her. Maybe I will see, one day soon.

I leave her, once I can see she is settled, and spend a few hours at work before returning to the library, so we can head home together.

Though I tease and goad her, Feyre stands her ground and will not let me she what she had been working on. I can see some evidence of her work though, on her clothing and in the spark in her eyes.

.o0O0o.

The following week follows the same pattern: we travel to the library together, she heads down the spiralling steps to her studio, I head on to Starfall, luckily less than five minutes further by foot. At the end of the day we walk home together; it’s instantly become the highlight of my day, whether I talk or listen or we simply walk in comfortable silence, this time with Feyre eases the tension deep in my soul.

Best of all are the days when we walk further down the riverside path than we need to, like today.

As we wander slowly beside the Sidra, I hardly see the river or the life if supports; my gaze is always on Feyre. When she stops to lean over the railing, far enough to cast a shadow on the surface of the water, I feel my creased, tissue paper heart flutter. Just like her hair flutters in the breeze. Feyre hardly ever leaves her hair down but today it flows like silk over her shoulders and the temptation to run my fingers through it is difficult to ignore.

But I do ignore it, because although we are spending more and more time together, she had not asked for more than friendship. I am hers, today and every day I have still to come, but she is not mine.

While we walk, I analyse every movement to determine her mood and energy levels, cross referencing these against the distance back to the house and how much daylight is remaining. When I suggest we sit down at a bench I get a sharp look but no complaints. 

Words pass my lips without my permission, Feyre does this to me – makes me want to be open, to be honest with her. “When Amarantha came to Velaris, I knew her by reputation. I should have been more cautious but she had contacts and experience… and my mind was elsewhere.”

I've never told anyone this but Feyre deserves to know. 

“Everything that has happened since is my fault. I let her in and she poisoned the industry. The culture of co-operation disappeared within a year. Friends and colleagues became enemies. At first, I tried to contain it to Starfall, contain _her_... Lots of people left the company, with my blessing though I wanted them to stay. And my family… I moved my family to the library."

I look back along the path towards the library. Feyre listens in silence but I can feel her watching me as I go on.

“I needed to move Mor, Cass and Az out of her reach, you don’t need me to explain why. Very few people know about the library and even fewer know how it links to me. I could continue to pay them a salary through the library and keep them safe. But for my plan to work, I had to stay away.

“I stopped having anything to do with the library and I kept away from everyone except Mor - I saw her every month or so. They may have been rare but those times kept me going. She was my only link to the rest of my family. ” 

“For how long?” Her voice is quiet. 

I sigh, leaning back on the bench. “Five years.”

“ _Five years_?! You stayed away from everyone and everything important to you for five years?”

“I knew what she was capable of. If staying away kept them safe then I was happy to do it. I should have stayed away from _you_.” I regret the words before they reach her ears but, when I glance across at her, she doesn't look angry, just sad. 

“What happened to me wasn't your fault, Rhys. You're the only one who tried to protect me.”

“You shouldn't have needed protecting.” I can see how uncomfortable this conversation is making her but I don't seem to be able to shut it down. I run a hand through my hair. 

“I went to that conference with Tamlin. I was hurt and tormented by Amarantha. But I doubt either of them feel much guilt over it. The only reason I'm still here today is _you,_ Rhys. You saved me.”

I’m gripping the bench hard but when she covers my hand with hers, my grip loosens. I’m still looking down at that delicate hand over mine as she continues.

“We all make mistakes. Maybe you did when Amarantha arrived but it sounds like you've paid for it many times over. What did you tell me about beating myself with a metaphorical stick? Sounds like you could do with putting the stick down.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “It's over now.”

Only carefully controlled breathing keeps back the tears. We sit like that until the sun goes down.

.o0O0o.

“Surprise!” The rest of my family greets us at the door, “We are throwing you a welcome home party Feyre because you're one of us now.” Mor grins and springs back towards the kitchen, linking her arm with Az on the way and being followed by Cassian.

I loosely catch Feyre's wrist as she goes to follow too. She turns back to me. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't know they would do this. I can ask them to leave.”

I hear the sounds of bottles opening and glasses filling. Her blue-grey eyes watch me carefully. 

“It's OK, I don't mind.”

We haven’t all been here at once since that first morning, when I overreacted and ended up leaving for the rest of the day. Maybe this is just my problem… But I felt the way she tensed as Mor announced the party so I'm about the argue further when she links our fingers together, just as they had been on the walk back from the river. 

“I don't think there have been many reasons to celebrate recently so let's let them have their party. I think it's as much for them, and you, as it is for me.”

I pull her into me for a hug and I rest my cheek against her head, finally feeling her silky smooth hair against my skin. 

“What are you two doing out there?” Cass calls and we spring apart, though he is still out of sight. 

.o0O0o.

The evening is wonderful. I tell Mor as much when we are alone in the kitchen later. It's been so long and yet I feel like no time has passed since we were together like this all the time. 

Feyre really has become part of the family almost overnight. Watching her with the others makes me smile - a smile that doesn't drop even when she catches me looking, even when she blushes and smiles back. 

Cass has had more to drink than he should have and keeps dissolving into unexplained fits of laughter. We can only laugh at him since he doesn't let us in on the joke. Az and Feyre are whispering away, looking as though they are busy scheming. And Mor sits on the sofa next to me with her feet across my lap, like a queen surveying her subjects. 

“This is how it should be,” my cousin announces. Then, more quietly, she adds, “I’ve missed this.” I can tell Mor is happy but it’s bittersweet, both of us thinking of all the lost time.

Just then Cassian, on the floor, leaning against the sofa where Az and Feyre are sitting, calls for our attention. He's almost too drunk to string sentences together. 

“I want to thank Feyre for joining our family.” Her cheeks flush but a smile is her only answer. “We've not been together like this for… for… Well, for a long time! Too long!”

“Here here!” echo both Azriel and Mor. Glasses are raised all round but Cass isn’t finished.

“I don’t think we've had a party like this since the days when Cahya used to gatecrash-"

I hear Mor gasp, feel her retract her legs and sense that she has turned back to face me. But I am frozen in place, staring at Cassian as the blood drains from his face and he sobers up far faster than should be possible. 

I had _forgotten_. This whole evening, maybe this whole week… I've not even thought about her once. 

The room is quiet and I blink, finding them all looking at me. Waiting for me to react. Except Feyre, who had been reaching for her glass and hasn't felt the change in mood - yet.

Feyre who doesn't know.

Feyre who says, "Car-ya, that's a lovely name,” sounding out the syllables to savour each sound. “Who is she?"

No one speaks. They're still waiting for _me_ but I can't do this - not now, maybe not ever.

Except… to forget her was bad enough, to deny her existence would be unforgivable. I swallow and find the words come easier than I expect, though they still burn my throat and tear at that tissue paper heart. "She was my sister."

And then I leave them. 

The party is very much over and I need to be alone. 


	10. Feyre

**Chapter Ten - Feyre**

_She was my sister._

Was. 

Oh Rhys.

I watch him leave without meeting anyone's eyes and listen until I hear the faint sound of his door closing. He's not angry. He doesn't stomp upstairs or slam any doors. No, his face was full of a mixture of pain and grief and that is so much harder to see than anger would have been.

I turn back to the others. Cassian looks almost green, sat on the floor and hunched over his knees. 

"I didn't mean-" 

"We know, Cass. It's OK." Azriel's voice is low and filled with the same deep sadness as his eyes. A suffocating silence falls over the room.

Tentatively, I say, "I didn't know Rhys had a sister." 

Mor releases the breath she's been holding as a long sigh. "Cahya died a long time ago, she was only six. Rhys' mother and sister both went to the mountains and-" 

"And the rest," interrupts Az firmly, "Is for _Rhys_ to share." 

It's hard not to feel hurt at his rebuff, especially given that for the last hour I’ve been speaking almost exclusively to Azriel, finally getting to know the most reserved and quiet member of Rhys' family. To think I’d felt accepted by him … and now this. 

He sees my crestfallen face and softens his tone. "No Feyre, that's not what I meant. Rhys has never spoken to any of us about what happened to Cahya, he's never spoken to _anyone_." 

I turn instinctively to Mor in silent question but she shakes her head. Az confirms and continues, "Not even Mor. But.. . I think he'll talk to you." He gives me a small, hopeful smile - they all do. 

"He needs to tell someone," Mor says quietly, "Ten years and he's still being eaten by grief."

This is enough to have me pushing to my feet. I don't know if I can do what they're asking of me but… 

For every time he came to save me. For this new life he has offered, without asking anything in return. For every day he's walked me home from the library. For Rhys. 

I take the stairs slowly, wondering what I will say when I reach his room. The door is ajar like he has heard me coming and opened it for me. I can see Rhys' silhouette - dark even against the night sky. 

And it turns out I don't need to say anything, he starts speaking as soon as I enter, like he's been waiting for me so that he can begin. 

"She was the light within darkness." I cross to his side by the windows, looking out over a small balcony and the stars beyond. "That's what her name means. Cahya: the light within darkness." 

I listen, barely breathing, as he speaks with a voice like the torn edge of paper. 

"My parents' marriage was struggling, they argued constantly. My mother was unhappy and my father's temper was growing worse by the day. And then Cahya came along, an unexpected gift. 

"Everything was suddenly better and not just with my parents. Az and Cass found ways to live with their pasts, be stronger for it. Mor, who'd been through her own troubles not long before, made her first steps towards recovery. And all my worries, about college and about the choices I would soon have to make, seemed lighter - Cahya just made it all easy. 

"The age gap was significant but I felt a bond between us the first time I held her. I knew we would all raise her, as a family, but she was _my_ sister.

"She had my eyes and my hair. We were a blend of traits from our parents, a mixture of both without being a copy of either, of course we'd be similar. But Cahya and I were nearly identical. The older she got the more sure I was that we would go through life together.

“We were happy. All of us. For six whole years - six years and two months to be exact.” He takes a deep breath and I glance down at his hand nearest me. I want to link our fingers together, just as they had been when we walked home today. But I see the way he holds himself - his arm held tense by his side. I don’t think he wants my touch right now. 

"My mother and sister had gone to the mountains - we have a cabin and I was planning to join them there. But I pushed back my journey by a day, to spend time with a friend." I can hear the self-hatred and regret, like the glue between his words. 

"Then I got a call. My mother's body had been found. My sister was missing. I joined the search immediately but we didn't find her. The search went on for _days_ and I never once considered that we wouldn't find her alive. That we might not find her at all. 

“Azriel and Cassian and Mor… they tried to talk to me but nothing made sense. I could _feel_ her, I knew she was still out there. 

“So I kept searching even after Cahya was officially presumed dead. And then one day a friend, the same friend I'd been with that day, said something odd. Something that implied my sister _was_ alive and being kept away from Velaris. 

“It was insanity but I wasn't sane. I needed it to be true and I spoke to the only person who I thought would really listen - my father. 

“We went to my friend’s house… he promised me no violence but he took a gun with him without telling me.” I can tell by his expression just what Rhys' view on guns is. “I remember backing away; there was so much blood. But then the front door opened behind me and I made a choice. I met Tamlin at the door and convinced him to run. I choose Tamlin and left my father there.”

“ _Tamlin_?” I hadn't meant to say it out loud. 

Rhys nods, his eyes closed. "We were good friends, once. But my father killed his family and any chance of finding out what happened to Cahya. Whatever Tamlin had or hadn't known, whether he delayed me from meeting my mother that day on purpose - I'll never know because Tamlin hates me and my whole family. Now and forever.”

I stay by his side, neither of us speaking. My mind races with all the new information. 

“What happened to your father?” I ask quietly.

“Turned the gun on himself before the police arrived.”

The air in my lungs rushes out and I feel empty. “I'm so sorry Rhys, for everyone you've lost.”

He doesn't speak but he seems to deflate, shoulders dropping and face tilting forward so that his eyes rest on the stone floor of the balcony - though I suspect he sees nothing at all. 

I won't force anything but I long to reach out to him. I'd want physical contact in this moment, if our roles were reversed, but his face is as unchanging as the stone he blindly stares at. 

After a long minute, I risk brushing my fingers across the backs of his - and he catches hold, clumsily twisting our fingers together. 

There has been something broken, buried deep inside him but now there are fresh fractures. I can see them in the tightness around his mouth, the twitch of his fingers against mine and the way his eyes are dark, the colour of old bruises. 

Stepping closer, I lean gently into his side, murmuring his name. 

Rhys releases my hand but only so that he can wrap his arm around me and pull me tightly to him. I rest my head in the space between his shoulder and his chest. After the hesitation of a moment, I wrap both arms around his waist too. 

I think about my sisters and about how much the separation, engineered by Tamlin, has hurt. I cannot imagine losing either of them - even Nesta, who hasn't said a kind word to me in years. Add to that not knowing what or how or why… 

"I can't tell you that I know how you feel or that tomorrow will be easier but… I can promise you that you're not alone Rhys." I look up at his profile, lit only by the faint light of a crescent moon; he looks drained. 

"I _forgot_ her." 

Guilt pours off him with that word: forgot. It fills the room around us, pressing in on us, refusing to be ignored. 

"No Rhys, you never forgot her. You can’t love someone as much as you love her without it changing who you are. She is part of everything you do now, everything you _are_. Always.” 

He turns to me then, hugging me back. 

“Say it again.” I almost pull back in confusion, not knowing what to say, what he needs. “Her name, say her name.”

“Cahya,” I whisper and he sighs heavily into my neck. 

“I don't know how long it's been, before tonight I mean - since I heard her name out loud.”

I tighten my grip on him. “We can do something about that.” I can feel the regular beat of his heart. “Maybe you could tell me about her, sometime.”

Rhys nods and for longer than I've ever hugged someone, I stand with my arms around Rhys, being warmed by the heat of his body and feeling like I'm exactly where I need to be. 

.o0O0o.

Hours later, I am happily cocooned in my duvet, when I wake with a jolt. My breathing comes as fast, shallow pants but my skin is not damp or clammy. In fact, I'm feeling none of the usual signs of a nightmare. 

So why am I awake?

Then I hear him and understand. It's not my nightmare that has woken me, it is _his_. 

After the evening he's had, dredging up all the worst moments of his past, I'm not surprised but I am conflicted. There is still a line between us, though it is gradually being erased. If I go to him now, I don’t know where I’ll stand.

Another cry from the room beyond our shared bathroom and I'm kicking the bedding out of the way and rushing to Rhys. I’ll work out where the line is later.

At the door I force myself to slow, not wanting to go storming in and make everything worse. I enter and, even though the darkness is like a physical presence, I can see that Rhys is tensing and turning. Hurting. 

I crawl onto the edge of the bed, kneeling beside him. “Rhys? It's a nightmare Rhys.” The moment my hand touches him, he wakes.

Rhys seizes my forearm, pulling me closer and twisting until I cry out. He freezes at the sound but doesn't let me go. I'm close enough to see the fog start to lift. 

“It's Feyre. You were having a nightmare. I'm Feyre, I'm your friend.”

He drops my arms, looking horrified, and because of that I don't look down or rub at my arm where he's hurt it. 

“A dream,” he says.

“Yes. Just a dream.” 

“No. Not _just_ a dream.” I wait and he continues, “Memories, a dream and not a dream.” Rhys looks exhausted and his voice is rougher than normal. I'm not sure he is fully awake yet.

“What memories?” 

He raises his eyes to mine. “Cahya.” 

“I'm sorry Rhys. Do… Do you want to talk about it?” 

Rhys blinks heavily, and then blinks again. “I used to dream about Cahya more often. I used to wish I _wouldn't_ dream of her but now… I wish I had these dreams more often - it's the only way I get to see her.” 

His honesty, and the darkness, makes me reckless. 

“Sometimes I wish my dreams were true, so I could have a chance to change what happened that night, but in every dream… she always wins.”

“Mostly I dream,” whispers Rhys, “of the sound of your body hitting that car, and then she makes me service her while you die on the road beside us.”

With every confession our voices get quieter. We are on dangerous territory now but I can't stop myself. 

“Sometime I dream that you reached me in time and then she pushes _you_ in front of that car.”

He fixes his eyes on mine, intense, “I wish it had been me instead.” 

“No,” I gasp and blindly reach for his hand - I miss and find his wrist and hold on tight. Neither of us speaks but the sound of our breathing fills the room. 

“I'm sorry,” I whisper, the bed sheets between us suddenly fascinating, “I don't think that helped.” 

“You help. You being here helps.”

I risk looking up at his face only to find him looking down. When I follow his gaze I see my pale fingers still clinging to his wrist. 

I let go but he catches my hand, lacing our fingers together. I watch him stare at our joined hands until he is calm and ready to slip easily back into sleep.

“I should let you rest,” I see a shadow fall over his face at my words, disappointment and irritation - at himself. He blinks rapidly, as though hoping to blink away the tiredness. I take a gamble, my pulse beating furiously in my neck. “Or… I could stay here?”

The silence is the sort you only get in old houses when two people hold their breath. 

I break first and smile, holding back the laugh but letting out a quiet huff of amusement. Rhys chuckles and releases my hand to pull back the covers, inviting me in. 

I lie facing him and with miles and miles of bed between us. But it's nice and I see him smile before we both close our eyes. 

.o0O0o.

It only takes a week of (almost) taking turns to wake each other from nightmares and then spending the remainder of the night together, before someone - Rhys - suggests we share a bed all night. 

It seemed the logical solution, inevitable even, and for the most part we have both been nightmare free since. 

And the only change is that we now fall asleep holding hands, close enough for me to hear each of his breaths but not close enough to feel the rush of warm air on my skin. 

Although we are just two broken people helping the other to heal, there are nights when I'm glad he's in my bed for other reasons. Glad that the line between us has all but vanished.

One definite benefit is starting the day beside Rhys – either watching him slowly waking or feeling his gaze before seeing the soft smile that he saves only for me. 

We hold hands on the way to work, until he leaves me outside the library, and on the way home, after I meet him outside by the river. 

Except today. Today is different and my hands give me away as I fidget with my clothing, my hair, with anything. 

Rhys' eyes sweep over me and frown. "No coat? No bag?" 

"I have a painting for you to look at." 

His eyebrows flick up briefly in surprise but otherwise he keeps his face blank. "Oh? You want me to come down?" 

He's trying to take the pressure off but I'm balanced precariously between wanting to go back downstairs with Rhys and wanting to go jump in the Sidra. He sees me push fisted hands deep in my pockets and shrug; his lips twitch. 

"If I didn't know better Feyre darling, I'd say you were nervous." I scowl down at the pavement. Rhys lifts my chin with a finger, smiling. "I'd love to see your painting." He keeps on smiling, his eyes saying, _whenever you're ready and not a moment before_. 

Always patient with me.

I nod, "I'm ready."


	11. Rhys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note rating change from here.

**Chapter Eleven - Rhys**

The painting is exquisite.

On the left is a side view of the entrance to the library, in such detail that it could almost be a photograph. But it is the right hand side which draws my eye.

Feyre has shown the riverside path disappearing into the distance and losing focus the further into the picture you look. There are figures on the path but they are barely more than silhouettes against the setting sun. No one is clear enough to recognise a face and yet the man and woman walking together are Mor and Azriel for sure. Everything, from the way they walk slightly too close together and the angle of the heads, tilted towards each other, is perfect. The runner in the distance can only be a Cassian - the way she has created movement on the canvas blows me away.

But the couple by the railings… The couple is _us_. Though I've never stood behind her, arms around her waist while she looks out over the water, how many times have I wanted to? And it feels like all along, she's wanted that too. The woman’s head is tilted back, her hair caught in the breeze. The man’s face is hidden completely at this angle but he is turned towards her, watching.

Right now it is Feyre, standing in a bubble of silence, watching me. I can't drag my eyes away from the painting until I feel her nervous energy building.

I turn and gaze into her face, which is a mix of hopeful and anxious. I don't know what my face is doing right now, I don't care.

"It's us. All of us." She nods. I step closer, still observing her carefully. I see the way her eyes shift to my mouth and linger there before looking away.

I take another step and raise a hand to her jaw, her skin is smooth beneath my palm. My thumb slowly brushes along her lips. The quiet gasp and the way her lips part for me makes my heart beat faster.

We've kissed before, Under the Mountain, but that kiss was a desperate meeting of mouths, tainted by my fear and her guilt. Today, I take my time as I lower my mouth to hers. _This_ is the first kiss we should have had.

Her lips are warm and soft beneath mine. I can feel how eager she is from the way her hands cling to my shirt but I control the pace.

A quick search of my memory tells me that the wall is just a few steps behind Feyre; I guide her backwards with one hand at her hip and the other resting now against her neck. Another gasp leaves her as I press Feyre gently against the wall and she opens to me. _Finally_ I let my tongue explore, humming in pleasure as she meets my tongue boldly with hers.

Feyre's hands dive into my hair, gripping tightly and pulling me closer. I groan. The hand at her neck shifts up, my fingers threading through her long hair - just as silky as I'd imagined. My other hand slips beneath her top. Though I only rest my hand on her waist, no higher, this is new territory.

My thumb rubs over her lower ribs and Feyre responds with a sigh. I want to catalogue all of her sounds. I want to know how loud she can be.

Feyre's head thuds back against the wall, exposing her neck, which my lips happily fall on. I leave teasing kisses down her neck until her hands force me back up to her mouth.

Everything about this is perfect.

Her hands run down the length of my back just as she takes my lip between her teeth and bites gently. My hips buck into her and I feel Feyre laugh against my mouth.

“Wicked creature,” I murmur, kissing her neck once more. I graze my teeth over her skin and she trembles in my arms, a moan escaping her. "Feyre darling, do I need to remind you that this _is a library_?"

" _Rhysand_ ," she says, purring my name, "Do I need to remind you that it was _you_ who kissed _me_ first?"

I look down at her flushed face and bright eyes. _Beautiful_. I steal another quick kiss from her lips and then I pull her towards the door; time to head home.

I’m not worried that we’ll leave this moment here in her studio. Something has been changing between us for a while - _this_ was inevitable. 

.o0O0o.

As we walk home, her hand stays tight in mine. Even though we've walked home together many times now, even though I've been holding her hand as we walk every day for the last week, _this_ time feels special. Maybe because I steal several more kisses along the way.

Feyre stops me at the door, "What about the others? Are you going to tell them?"

I cup her face. "We have nothing to hide but why don't we just let them figure it out?" I can picture Cassian's confused face as he tries to work out if something has changed. From the sly smile forming on Feyre's face, I guess she is thinking along the same lines.

However, as soon as the front door opens, I realise there is a situation waiting for us. I instinctively drop Feyre’s hand and step between her and Mor, who looks ready to combust.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, we-”

“Did you know Hyburn is making a case against Starfall?”

I stiffen, “Yes, I was aware. He’s contacted the whole industry though the exact case differs from company to company. Amarantha is behind it.” I’d rather not be having this conversation in the doorway or with Feyre behind me.

I’d rather not be having this conversation at all; I can think of many things I’d rather be doing – most of them with Feyre and in private.

“Did you know we have a court summons? And we have to pay the costs upfront.”

“No,” my heart sinks, “I did not know that.”

My cousin thrusts a letter into my hand, “It’s more than we can pay Rhys. I seriously hope you have a plan for this.”

She is angry at being left out of the loop but she’s worried too; one look at the figure quoted in the letter and I know she has good reason to be. Starfall does not have this much money sitting around – we’re a small business, we look after our employees and a good chunk of any profit made is invested into the library.

The family estate can cover most of this... but not all.

Mor and Azriel know all this, I’d guess they’re been discussing the problem for a while, waiting for me to get home.

“Where’s Cass?” I ask, partly to play for time while I think.

“He’s on his way here now. Answer the question.”

“Technically, cousin, you didn’t ask me a question.”

She gives me the shittiest of shitty looks and says slowly, “Do you have a plan?”

“We’ll get the money back; the case is guaranteed to go in our favour.”

“But we need to raise the money first!”

I sigh, “I do have a plan, Mor, but you’re not going to like it.”

Az, speaking for the first time having watched the exchange between Mor and I in silence, suggests we move to the kitchen. Feyre ends up beside me. She must see some of the dread I am feeling in my face because, below the table, she takes my hand and squeezes gently.

Opposite me, Mor is waiting impatiently.

“The family estate can front most of the legal costs and the rest will need to come from Keir.” I let that settle for a moment. Mor’s face has lost all colour but Azriel looks unsurprised at my solution. He moves closer to Mor and I suspect he offers her a similar comfort to that which Feyre is offering me.

“He won’t just give you the money,” comes Mor’s response, quietly.

“I own most of his club; ultimately he won’t have a choice.”

Mor shakes her head, “You’d still need to offer him something in return, you _know_ how he is.”

“Or,” says Az, “Have something to use against him.” Nobody speaks for a moment. He continues, “I can find the leverage you need if you get us into the club and give me half an hour.” His eyes flick across to Feyre and I feel sick with the implication.

Mor gets up to go but I catch her arm, I won’t do this without her blessing. Her eyes meet mine, “Ask me to find another way and I will.” I’m almost hoping she does ask, as much for her sake as for Feyre.

“No. I’ll let him know that we’re coming. Two hours?”

I nod and watch her go. This is a huge potential set-back for her – any contact with her father comes at a cost. Keir is more than an arsehole, he’s a predator. One who thought even his daughter was fair game.

At the front door she calls back to us, “If Feyre comes with us, she can borrow any of my clothes.” My cousin has also grasped what our distraction will likely be, though I’ll do what I can to prevent it.

.o0O0o.

Feyre listened in silence to what we needed her to do, she listened to me try to convince her to stay home and she listened to Az explain why she could be the difference between success and failure. 

She chose Azriel over me and agreed to come.

Feyre has agreed to let Keir focus on her while Az searches for the leverage we need. 

I don't want Feyre anywhere near that club and I don't want Keir to even know of her existence. In the two hours we had allowed for getting ready, I tried twice to change her mind. 

Yet here we are: The Court of Nightmares. With its bar downstairs and club upstairs, it is a stain on the beautiful city we live in. I come here as little as I can, despite my financial investment. 

And here is Keir. He may be my uncle by blood but I do not consider this man to be family. He acknowledges Mor and I but doesn't look long at either of us once Feyre has stepped through the door. 

As planned, she is the star attraction tonight. Her hair is loosely curled, falling freely over her shoulders. Her makeup, curtesy of Mor, is dark around her eyes and her lips are a bright red.

I don't let Keir take her arm as he leads us to what he calls the VIP seating area. I sit beside Feyre facing the bar. Keir, as predicted, sits opposite Feyre. Cassian sits beside him, allowing Az and Mor to take the final sofa, on my left. 

None of us would ever expect Morrigan to sit next to her father. One day I will pull away the financial backing my father gave him years ago and shut this horrible place down for good – it will be a gift for Mor; she knows she only needs to ask. 

We make painful small talk, disguising this visit as a routine check in. Mor and Feyre say nothing at all. None of us touch the alcohol he provides.

When Az and Mor move away to the bar, as planned, Keir turns to watch them. Until his attention is drawn back by Feyre, who chooses this moment to remove her coat. 

I’ve seen the dress already and yet my eyes are still drawn to every curve of her body now on display. The tight-fitting, sheer fabric hides nothing.

We all but argued when she came downstairs at the townhouse, telling me that _Az_ thought it was a good choice.

Below the fabric, Feyre’s black underwear is visible. A _good choice_ … Azriel and I will be having words when this is over.

"You haven't properly introduced me to your new woman, Rhysand." Keir has forgotten his missing guests completely due to Feyre’s perfect timing.

"This is Feyre Archeron."

His eyebrows raise, "The same Ms Archeron who is engaged to Tamlin Spring?"

" _Was_ engaged, I've moved on." She says it flippantly, like the last few months weren't a living hell and Tamlin hadn't pushed her to breaking point. 

Once her coat is folded neatly, she lays it over the end of the sofa - giving Keir a good long look at the back of her dress. Feyre sits back down, closer to me than before. 

"Well, she seems to have a type." 

I stiffen but Feyre seamlessly shifts to sit across my lap, looking me directly in the eye even as she answers Keir, "Oh Rhysand and Tamlin are _nothing_ alike."

Reassurance, for my benefit. 

Brushing her hair aside to reveal the shoulder closest to me, I press a soft kiss onto her skin – I may not be in character but I need Feyre to know how grateful I am for her words. 

For an instant she looks at me like she did in the studio, our private perfect moment, and then a wall slides up to hide her true emotions and she turns back to Keir. 

While Cassian and I make comments on the recent changes to the bar, I raise my arms, placing one hand on her spine and the other on her exposed knee. I stroke her skin of her inner thigh with my thumb and see Keir's eyes following the movement. With each passing stroke, the dress rises slightly higher up Feyre’s legs.

“Like what you see?” she asks Keir, in a voice I've never heard her use before. 

With my mask firmly in place I look across at him. I'm going for smug and arrogant but he's not looking back at me - he is captivated by the woman on my lap.

Keir's eyes are dark pools of desire as he watches Feyre. Next to him, Cassian watches _me_ with sharp disapproval. He arrived at the house in time to hear the plan but too late to object. He obviously doesn’t like seeing Feyre being used as bait for the man who used Mor’s virginity as a business bargaining chip. 

I can't do anything about Cass, just as I can't do anything about the way my body has begun to react to having Feyre so close.

And then she turns on my lap and leans back on my chest – I know she does it to give Keir a better view but now her body is dangerously near to finding out just how good she’s making _me_ feel. I swallow a groan and bite down lightly on the base of her neck, in warning.

I continue to tease her body with light strokes, slowing the pace to save my own sanity, but Feyre doesn't hold back. As she rolls her neck and arches her back, Feyre's hips slide fractionally closer to mine.

So far I've managed to keep her away from the growing evidence of my arousal but this time there is no doubt that she can feel how hard I am.

Feyre moans and I forget we have an audience. My arms slide around her waist and holding her flush against me. It’s a relief to have the pressure where I need it.

But then Feyre rolls her hips, just once, over my erection and my hips push up into her. I have no choice but to hide my face, the mask slipping as desire wins; I bend my head to kiss her shoulder and take several shaky breaths, until I once more have control of my body. 

I'm saved from irredeemable embarrassment when Mor and Az return to our group. They both hide their true feelings at seeing their new friend writhing on my lap - they look bored. 

With a nod from Az, Cassian plays his final part in this charade, telling Keir if we need more information from him, then we’ll be in touch - no mention of our ‘request’ for the financial support we need, that will come later. 

Feyre slides off my lap and I close my coat over my trousers before helping Feyre into her coat.

“Until next time,” Keir says, eyes exclusively on Feyre, “Bring the whore with you when come back.”

Feyre goes still but everyone else reacts quickly. Mor takes Feyre’s arm and guides her towards the door. I almost get in one good punch but Az and Cassian are there to prevent it, pushing me towards the way out.

As we walk, Cassian hisses, “What did you expect, putting her on display like that?”

My hands still shake but he’s right. What _did_ I expect?

.o0O0o.

Everyone is quiet on the journey home. We all have our reasons, I guess - mine is guilt.

Just looking at Feyre, who is now sat beside Cassian, is painful. I used her body tonight, treated her like an object – like a whore, as Keir put it. It doesn’t matter that she volunteered; she doesn’t know Keir like I do. He won’t forget what he’s seen.

And worse, she will have felt how much my body enjoyed using her like that. Whatever was growing between us, it was too new to risk in this way.

The kiss in the studio now feels like a lifetime ago. When the car stops at the townhouse, only Feyre and I get out.


	12. Feyre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regular updates are no longer a thing but I'm still here, still writing.

**Chapter Twelve - Feyre**

What an evening. What a _day,_ in fact. 

I knew that having to wear a mask, and see my friends doing the same, had the potential to pull me back to an older version of myself – survival mode from Under the Mountain. I knew that it wasn’t without risks.

But this family, who have taken me under their wing, needed my help - I was never going to say no to them, whatever they asked. Rhys, in particular, could ask me for anything, if only he knew.

And when we entered the club, the Court of Nightmares, certainly home of Mor’s nightmares, I surprised myself. Instead of despair drowning me, I felt the strength of purpose making me brave.

In the end, I think Rhys struggled more than I did, especially when Keir called me a whore.

 _Of course_ Rhys would struggle with that. How many years had he put up with others calling him _Amarantha's whore_? How many years had he silently taken it?

I wonder if Keir knew. 

The way they all closed ranks around me when Keir insulted me… there were tears in my eyes but not from his words – their actions made me feel truly part of a family. _Their_ family.

I felt detached in that club, so much so that Mor’s father couldn’t hurt me. The way he spoke and stared at my body didn’t feel personal, like I was playing a role and could simply return to the safety of being _me_ whenever I chose. 

Even when I sat across Rhys’ lap, as we had planned that I would, and invited Keir to look at me, at _us_ , he was still only seeing the mask. 

Only Rhys could see the real me; I saw the real him too. I know he worries about his mask but I know he's always in there, I'm not afraid of him.

Sitting with Rhys may have been agreed beforehand but the way my body craved his touch was unexpected, all-consuming. Welcome. As welcome as the feel of his arousal below me, knowing the feeling was mutual. Even after our kiss, I feel relieved by those signs of his attraction tonight.

I’m so lost in thought that I arrive at my bedroom door and pass over the threshold before I turn back to Rhys. Two steps behind me, he stops. I could reach out and almost touch him but I don’t because the hollow look in his eyes makes me suddenly afraid.

Before I can ask what’s wrong, he says, “I'm sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I shouldn't have taken you with us.”

“I'm fine.” I look at him more closely, at the tight line of his mouth and darkness swirling in his eyes. “We knew what tonight would ask of us. _I_ knew, Rhys.” But my words don't seem to be getting through. 

“You should have stayed behind.” 

A ripple of remembered fear passes through me, “Please don't start leaving me behind. Don't be like that.” _Like him._

“I'm not Tamlin,” his voice is a low rumble, “I would _never_ lock you up.”

“Then trust me!” I can feel desperation rising as I try to reach the Rhys who held gently, kissed me gently, just hours ago in my studio - made me believe I'd found a place in the world. 

My voice shakes as I continue softly, “Trust me to decide what I can and can't do.” 

His breathing is uneven as he turns away. “I'll let you sleep.”

It takes his hand on his bedroom door for me to understand. “You want to sleep apart.” It's not a question but I need to hear him say it. 

Rhys winces but replies, “I think that's best.” 

“Fine,” I snap and I wait until his eyes meet mine to add, “But you need to sort yourself out Rhys. This isn't my problem, it's yours.”

There is hurt in his gaze as I slam my bedroom door shut, the wooden barrier feeling more like the blade of a guillotine between us. 

.o0O0o.

I wake to an empty house and a short note from Rhys, left beside the kettle. 

**Meeting Az at work, back this evening. R**

I sigh, crumpling the paper in my hand and then I spend a long time just standing there, letting it sink in. Numb. 

I said things I shouldn't have said. I pulled up a wall between us to hide my disappointment at the loss of the understanding we found when I showed him my painting. 

My hand drifts to my mouth, following the path of his lips. Yesterday, it was only yesterday that we looked at each other honestly, recognising that connection that has been hanging between us since he was a nameless stranger and I was a barmaid.

Every night I fell asleep with his hand holding mine; every morning I woke to his smile; all those times we've walked or talked or listened to each other. Every moment has been building towards something. How can something that took so long to build be so easily destroyed? 

Eventually, I do put the kettle on, and over a cup of tea I realise two things. 

The first is that I cannot spend all day inside and alone. Once I've eaten I’ll go… out. Somewhere. 

The second is that I took a risk in sharing that painting with Rhys. I hoped he would see all the words that I couldn't say hidden between brush strokes. I hoped he would see the _us_ I have been dreaming of and that he’d feel the same as I do. And he _did_.

So if he's going to back off now, I'm not going to chase him. It’s not my turn to go out on a limb.

The thought leaves me empty inside. I'd let myself believe things were about to get better but I can't let my wellbeing be pinned on one person. Tamlin taught me that at least. 

Breakfast ends up being a slice of toast with honey. And it ends up being eaten as I walk to the library, the emptiness of Rhys' home chasing me out onto the streets of Velaris. 

The library itself is closed today but I now have a key, sitting cold in the palm of my hand. Another contradiction. Rhys trusted me enough to give me the freedom to come and go, both to his house and the library. But he doesn’t trust me to know my own limits.

I collect some of my painting supplies and set off again, in and out within five minutes.

I walk out of the beautiful Old Town, with its now familiar riverside paths and varied architecture. I edge round the modern city centre, where the tall buildings remind me of too many days spent looking down. And then, without actually planning to, I end up back in my old neighbourhood. 

Here the houses are divided into smaller flats, gardens are few and poverty is high. This was my home. 

I trek up a steep road that I know leads to a bench with a good view of the city rooftops.

I know that painting would lift me out of the slump I’ve been in all morning but I can’t make myself focus. Every action, no matter how familiar, is now an effort. Just as it was in those early days after Under the Mountain.

I’m easily distracted from my task; I catch myself thinking of Rhys more than once but I consciously push those thoughts away – awkwardly forcing my mind onto any topic but him. 

By early afternoon I am ready to give up on the painting and I realise where my feet have been trying to take me. I’m almost there.

I'm lucky that Elain answers the door; Nesta, I suspect, would have slammed it in my face. I haven't spoken to them since I went into hospital. I'm not sure they were even due to be invited to the- _think of something else_.

"Feyre!" 

The interrogation that follows is made easier by Elain taking the lead and Nesta limiting herself dirty looks and occasional remarks. And my father – who looks better than I’ve seen him in years, telling me that he’s stayed off the drink and is returning to work.

He thanked Tamlin for funding his treatment and I managed a broken explanation for why we are no longer together.

I find the last few months to be beyond explanation for now; I settle for tell them that I am now living with friends and working at a library.

Elain invites me to join them for a meal and adds, “You must stay, Feyre. Stay the night too. We've not seen you for months.”

My heart clenches as I nod, knowing that I'm agreeing as much to avoid Rhys as to spend more time with my family. 

Nesta gives me a look that leaves me wondering if she has seen through my guilt, my ulterior motive. "Trouble in paradise?" she sneers and Elain looks between us, frowning. 

“I’d love to stay,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket, ignoring Nesta’s taunt. I type out a brief message to Rhys, similar to his note this morning. 

**Staying with family for the weekend. F**

I feel petty and sad as soon as I hit send. Maybe I should have asked how his day has been, if Az has the leverage needed. Maybe I should have apologised for last night, or asked if he wanted to talk. 

Twenty minutes of repeatedly checking the phone, held tightly between my palms, and then:

**OK.**

Anxiety shifts to anger at his short reply. I put the phone away but try as I might I cannot focus on the conversation, Elain's voice is a soft breeze buffeted away by the hurricane raging inside my head. 

.o0O0o.

Sunday - a whole day with my family, which leaves me wondering how I lived here for so long. 

It's not their fault. They weren't there - Under the Mountain. I arrived as one person and left in pieces. It's not their fault that they don't recognise the reconstructed person I am now.

It's not my sisters' fault that the cost of their education pushed me towards a job at Spring Publishing. It's not my father's fault that looking at him now reminds me of Tamlin.

I'm quiet and though I agree to stay a second night, by the time I'm back in my old bedroom once again, now my sisters' walk-in wardrobe, I'm wishing I was home.

 _Home_. With Rhys, that's where my home is now. 

I look again at the short exchange of messages between us yesterday. Maybe it doesn't matter to him - that we haven't talked since my angry parting words on Friday night.

Before I can overthink it, I'm sending another message. 

**I hope things went well with Az. F**

We've not been in the habit of texting one another, but I've been living with him, walking to and from work with him, sharing a bed with him. We haven’t really needed to communicate this way.

Half an hour later, I’m out of patience and firing off another text.

**Is this silence a punishment?**

What exactly is his problem? He seemed to like me just fine at the club. My cheeks flush. My hands ghost over my own body, above my clothes, as I remember his touch, the warmth of him behind me, the hardness between his legs.

Whether he regrets it or not, pushing me away like this, _ignoring_ me, is just childish.

**I think you’re a coward.**

Once the last message is sent, I try to tell myself I’m no longer hoping for a reply. But the way I lock and unlock my phone, checking for messages, exposes the lie.

Waiting quickly drains my remaining energy. I fall asleep before any answer arrives. 

.o0O0o.

The morning too brings only silence from Rhys. 

I leave my family's home with a heaviness on my shoulders and in my feet. I leave them with my new mobile number and a promise of another visit soon. If things fall apart with Rhys, it could be sooner than they think… 

The library is a long walk away. Suddenly, I'm in no hurry to re-join my new life, now the most important part of it seems to have been ripped away.

So finding Rhys in my studio, staring at my painting, is not what I expect at all.


	13. Rhys

**Chapter Thirteen - Rhys**

"What are you doing here?" Feyre’s voice is flat and her eyes, when I turn to find her standing in the doorway, are wary. 

"I-" 

What can I say? Why _am_ I here, staring at a painting - at a future - that I cannot have?

"I'm sorry," _for everything_ , I add to myself but am too much of a coward to say out loud.

She was right about that in her message last night. 

I glance back at her artwork one last time, longing for the connection she has painted but fearing it is already too late. "I should go." 

But Feyre doesn't step aside as I approach the doorway, she just stares at me with a gaze that penetrates too deeply. I see her eyes also flick to the painting behind me before she says, "Meeting as normal after work?" 

This is so _not_ what I'm expecting that words fail me for a moment.

I can see the life raft she has thrown me; I probably deserve to drown but she's offering to save me anyway. "Yes, yes, normal time."

She stands aside. Her lips twitch into an almost-smile and I realise that I'm still here, still gaping at her. "Go to work, Rhys." 

"Yes, good idea." This time she give me a full smile, and I give her one in return. 

.o0O0o.

We walk home together that day and both to-and-from work the next day. At first we are quiet, neither of us brings up the argument or the visit to the Court of Nightmares though it lingers like a stain between us. 

Gradually though, we return to the hand-holding and easy conversation of before. Inside, I feel the nervous energy dissipate and a warm excitement take its place.

It feels as if we are building towards something again. I don't mind if we take it slow because I'm enjoying the climb. 

Though we continue to sleep apart, on Wednesday night I hold her hand all the way up the stairs and kiss the back of her hand lightly as we part. 

The remembered softness of her skin beneath my lips has me awake long into the night.

And as I wait for sleep to claim me, I decide that tomorrow I will give Feyre the honesty she deserves, the words I know to be true but have yet to share. 

.o0O0o.

That conviction stays with me right up until I see her face at breakfast. 

Feyre looks as though she hasn't slept a wink, in fact, if she wasn't sat at the table in the loose shirt and leggings that I've seen her wear at night, I wouldn't believe that she'd been to bed at all. 

"I'm not well." Her voice is low but steady. I'm not seeing any obvious signs of illness though exhaustion, anxiety and sadness I'm seeing in abundance. But I don't challenge her diagnosis as I sit beside her, take her hand and ask what I can do. 

Nothing. I can do nothing, she tells me while avoiding my eyes. Which is when I start to wonder… Because next week is-

"You'll be late, Rhys. I'm OK here, honestly. I'm just going to go back to bed." 

I nod and, because I am worried now and my thoughts are split across the past, present and future, I press my lips to her temple. It feels natural to touch her this way and it soothes some of my own anxiety. 

But Feyre's quiet gasp, brings me back to the here and now. Since the Court of Nightmares I don’t have that right. 

I stand abruptly, Feyre looking up at me with some of that sadness now replaced by surprise. 

"I'll see you later." She nods as I sweep my eyes over her face again, "Call me - if you need anything." I almost say _if you need me_ , but I've overstepped already. 

.o0O0o. 

The rest of the morning is tedious and minutes expand to fill the space of hours. 

Feyre doesn't call. I don't allow myself to be disappointed, I don't have that right either, after all: I pushed her away with my behaviour last week. 

While I approve new contracts and receive updates from the various directors, I am crafting sentences for the conversation that waits for me at home.

I've avoided this subject for long enough. _Too long_ , it seems. But I had hoped that Feyre would raise it with me, when she felt ready to. 

I send her a text at lunchtime and by 3pm, having heard nothing, I decide to take the rest of the afternoon off. The journey home is faster since I am not calling in at the library but I find my feet dragging slightly as I near home - near the conversation I've been dreading. 

Feyre is in the sitting room, no longer in pyjamas but her eyes are still red from tears she likely thinks I won't know about. Her hair, which looks as if she has finger-combed it too many times, is half down, half pulled up. 

I sit down beside her and clasp my hands. _Count to three and just say it._ But Feyre gets there first and her words are not what I am expecting to hear. Not at all. 

“It's my wedding day.”

I blink. All my pre-prepared sentences vanish.

“It would have been, I mean,” she corrects, not looking at me. 

I'm struggling to catch up. How could I have been so convinced that I understood and yet be so wrong?

“Are you disappointed?” I ask, certain that I don't want to hear the answer. 

Her head snaps to mine, confusion creasing her forehead. "No!” 

I hate myself for how relieved I am. 

Feyre turns away and continues slowly, “I just feel… I feel bad for finding someone else so quickly.” A shy smile lights her face and suddenly I feel sick right down to the pit of my empty stomach. 

I should be pleased for her but all I can think is that I messed everything up. _It could have been us. Should have been us_.

With my mind in a whirl, I can't do much more than repeat Feyre's words back to her, “You've found someone else.”

She's watching me now. _Let her go,_ I tell myself _._ I smile, or try to at least, as I say, “I'm happy for you.” It’s not a lie, she deserves happiness. I will find a way to let her go.

Her eyes go wide and I'm having a hard time maintaining eye contact. A hard time staying in the room, if I’m honest.

 _“You,_ Rhys. I want to be with you.”

I'm not breathing but now I can't move or look away. _What if this isn't real? How can it be real when this is everything I want?_

Feyre is waiting for me to say something so I splutter, “You're sure? Even after… Even-”

“Yes Rhys. Maybe that makes me a whore-”

“It doesn't.” I don't want to hear her saying that about herself. I don't want her to even think it. “I hated using you as a distraction for Keir. I never want you to be treated like you were Under the Mountain. I never want to treat you like that, even _pretending_ to felt so wrong.”

I shift so that I'm almost sideways on the sofa, my knees brushing her leg. Honesty - now is the moment. “I love you Feyre, you are precious and perfect. And _you choose_ \- that's what I wanted to say before. I always want you to know that you have a choice.”

Maybe there is more to say about the other night and the distance between us since then, but I stop. 

Her lips have parted in surprise and her cheeks are a warm pink. “You love me?” I nod. I don't expect her to say the words back to me, which is just as well since silence hangs between us for a moment. 

I push to my feet, “Come on. Let's go get something to eat. You've not been out today, a walk will do you good.” 

.o0O0o. 

We end up getting food to eat on the go and walking along the river, mostly in silence. But she's _right there_ and her fingers are linked with mine as we wander with no particular destination in mind.

When she looks at me, her hopeful smile makes me happier than I can ever remember feeling. 

Feyre steps up to the railings, her feet on the lowest rung, and I'm instantly behind her. I hold her with both arms around her waist, not from the fear that she will fall but because we've both wanted this moment for so long. 

I see her lips turn up in a smile as I kiss her cheek. I let my lips brush the shell of her ear before leaving more kisses down her neck. The angle is perfect; the extra step has put us at almost the same height. 

I can feel her tremble when I graze my teeth over her throat but then she stills completely. “Rhys! _Look_.”

Coming down the river towards us is a flock of birds, so dense in places that they block out the sky behind them. From a distance they seem pure white, with a black bill and matching feet. "Illyrian terns," I whisper.

After the first few have passed, I hear doors and windows opening behind us as people join us in watching. “They're migrating. At this end of the city, watching them go is an annual event.”

“Always the same day?”

“No,” I admit, “But roughly. We used to wait here every evening in spring until they flew. With everything going on, I'd almost forgotten this was due. And… well, over the last few years I've stayed away completely. I didn't want _her_ to know, to taint this in any way.”

Feyre's hands find mine and squeeze.

Some of the terns fly lower, skimming the surface of the Sidra, their tails fanned out and the neat black cap visible on the top if their heads.

One tern lands on the railing beside us, watching us as we watch it. Now the beak and feet can be seen clearly, they are not black but a deep blood red. Feyre hardly breaths as the bird rests an arms length away - but these birds spend half their year in the Steppes, they are brave and hardy. 

I admire the sliver grey feathers on the upper wings and the intelligent look in its eyes until the bird gives out a sharp cry and rejoins the flock. Feyre laughs softly and follows its path until our bird is just one speck among many.

“You know, nobody even knows why they go. They travel hundreds of miles to a place so similar to here that none of the people studying them can work out why they make the journey. Best guess - they go because they have always gone.”

Feyre sighs and leans back into me as I talk, her eyes flicking left to right as she tracks the path of individual birds as they pass while my eyes watch her. 

“There are so many.”

It's my turn to sigh, “Yet there are less and less of them every year. Cahya… Cahya said that they were just getting lost. She believed the lost birds would come home one day.”

Feyre turns in my arms, the birds continuing to pass behind her. I know she hears the words I'm not saying as she studies my face: how much I wanted my sister to come home - to just be lost, not gone forever. How long I waited for her to come back. 

“I'm sorry for what you've been through.”

I start to turn my head away but she catches my face and holds my gaze, “I love you, Rhys.” She gives me that hopeful smile again. Her fingers brush across my cheeks and come away wet. “I think I have loved you for a long time, maybe even since Bryaxis. And I'm not disappointed that I'm with you, never think that.”

My lips cut her off as I press in closer. If the railings at her back are uncomfortable, Feyre doesn't say. I hold her face carefully as I repeatedly kiss her lips and then her cheeks and her closed eyes. 

She wraps her arms around my waist under my coat and the heat of her hands, with just my shirt between us, breaks my resolve.

My hips roll into hers; the moan that falls from her lips calls me back to her mouth and allows my tongue to enter. Luckily, the loud, ringing calls of so many Illyrian terns drowns out any sounds we make. 

Feyre meets my every movement, every touch and, momentarily, we both forget where we are, that there are people all around us.

However, as the riverside fills with more and more people coming to witness the passing of the birds, an unspoken agreement is made between us: to leave _this_ until later. 

So, Feyre turn back around in my arms, towards the seemingly endless stream of birds, and we watch until her head is heavy on my shoulder. 

.o0O0o. 

Home. I guide her upstairs and listen to the quiet yawns she tries to hide. At her bedroom door, I stop and kiss her softly only for Feyre to laugh against my mouth. I raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Don't go being a gentleman Rhys, you know how that worked out last time.”

“I can be whatever my Lady wishes,” I whisper with my lips at her ear, then I pause and pull away, “But you're tired Feyre.”

“So let's sleep, but I'm not letting you sleep in your room.” She doesn't specify if her statement refers only to tonight or from now on. I'm hoping for the latter but I'll take whatever she’s willing to give. 

We've washed, changed and are falling asleep wrapped in each other's arms before I remember that there is still another conversation waiting for us...

It can wait a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, an Illyrian tern is a larger arctic tern.


	14. Both

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plan says I should be heaping on the angst now as things will be quickly going from bad to worse... 
> 
> BUT I couldn't do it, I'm giving them some time to be happy together before life goes to shit. 
> 
> So, this chapter is just smut really, I apologise. In terms of plot - there isn't any. If NSFW content is not your thing, pick this up from the next chapter.

**Chapter Fourteen - Both**

**Feyre**

Waking surrounded by Rhys' scent and with his arm looped over my waist is about as perfect as I can picture. I bite my lip to contain the grin spreading across my face. 

If only we didn't need to get up. I allow myself to imagine what I'd like to do with Rhys. What I'd like _him_ to do to me...

Then, like a cat, I stretch, arching my back, selfishly hoping to wake the man who shares my bed. A chuckle rumbles from behind me, a sign of my success. 

Getting ready for work takes longer than it should this morning as we both slow each other down with unnecessary touches.

There is a lightness inside me that I haven't felt since... well, maybe since never. 

.o0O0o.

Unlike yesterday, there is no lingering beside the river after work.

Outwardly, we walk back home like nothing has changed, like we haven't both made a wordless vow to finish what we started. It's only a matter of time, possibly just a matter of hours. Or less. 

I go straight to the kitchen when we get home. Rhys joins me a few minutes later, just as I expected him too.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" I'm aiming for coy but there is laughter in my voice.

"It looks like you're making me food, Feyre darling… Why?" 

"Because," I hesitate, glad that he cannot see my face, the way it burns with sudden doubt and embarrassment. "Because tonight feels _special_ , I wanted to do something different. For you." 

I know he feels it too. How close we are to that final step. Our bodies are physically ready, have been for some time, most likely; our minds just needed a little longer to heal.

I hear the bench scrape on the floor as Rhys moves it away from the table and sits down. No doubt he's watching me but he says nothing while I keep myself busy over the stove. 

Then, "So you're cooking for me now. Is there no end to your talents?"

"I think _heating_ would be a more accurate description."

I sense his eyes sweeping the kitchen for clues. "Soup?"

"Yes."

"From a can?"

"Yeah… I know it's not much, I'm-" 

"You're perfect." Rhys' voice is so soft that I risk a glance in his direction. The intensity of his gaze makes me turn quickly away. 

I bite my lip, watching the surface of the soup in the pan far more closely than is necessary. Then I transfer the contents into two bowls, carry them with shaking hands and sit down opposite Rhys. 

His eyes are dark pools of desire, his gaze so intense that I can hear my heart rate pick up, maybe he can too.

My tongue slips out to wet my lips. Rhys tracks the movement, staring long and hard at my mouth. I don't need to hear his thoughts to know what he's thinking. 

"Thank you for the soup but there's something else I'd rather taste. Some _one._ "

I suck in air and look away. With clumsy fingers, I reach for my spoon saying, "Later."

Like a bond between us being pulled taut, I can feel his attention focused on me. His stare is a silent command to look back up at him. I do.

"Is that a promise?"

My voice is a breathless whisper, "Yes."

"Good."

We watch each other for several seconds and then Rhys reaches for his spoon and that link between us loosens a fraction. He gives me a hungry smile, that has nothing to do with food, before starting to eat. 

Keeping my movements small and slow, I eat too.

We exchange heated glances that have my toes curling and leave a shy smile permanently on my face. 

He finishes first and I marvel at his patience; I can feel the pulsing of his contained energy from across the table.

Rising, I take both empty bowls to the sink. On silent feet, he follows me and when I reach for the tap his hand covers mine. 

"The washing up," I whisper, a quiet protest. 

Rhys presses me into the counter with his body, his lips ghost across my ear, "Later." A command; throwing my earlier answer back at me.

I arch against him as Rhys' free hand tightens around my waist. 

"Upstairs." Another command. 

"Yes." 

**Rhys**

At the top of the stairs, I steer Feyre not to her bedroom or mine but to the bathroom between. 

I turn the shower on before turning to her. I know she wants this, we both do, but Feyre is restless, holding her body tight. 

"You're tense," I run my hands over her shoulders, feeling the knotted muscles twitch. "This will help."

As I kiss her lips, a soft, shallow kiss, I open her shirt one button at a time. Then I push the skirt she choose this morning, pale blue with waves around the hemline, over her hips to pool at her feet. 

Leaving her underwear in place, my hands travel up and down her back until I feel her slump against me with a sigh. 

"Shower?" 

She hums in approval and I watch as she removes first the bra and then that last barrier between us. 

I know my face hides nothing as I stare at her. She smiles, coy now and far more relaxed already, before stepping into the shower. 

Feyre tips her head back, into the spray, and I halt in my own undressing to watch her, to take in every curve and inch of skin now on display. She opens her eyes and the usual blue-grey darkens to black. 

I quickly push away my last items of clothing and join her. Her gaze travels up and down my body, as mine does hers.

Perfection. 

We reach for each other at the same time but I deflect her hands and shift us both so that Feyre stands below the flow of water and I am behind her. 

I rest my head in the space where her neck and shoulder meet, "Let me touch you first?" 

"Yes," she gasps. 

After mastering my own breathing, which is turning ragged with her so close, and squeezing some of her shampoo onto my palm, I wash her hair. I take my time, enjoying the soft, wordless murmers she makes as I rake my fingers over her scalp. 

Then I lather up both hands with soap and follow the curve of her shoulders to sweep down her arms and sides. Feyre catches my hands occasionally but only to make contact, never to stop me. 

Finally, I bring my palms up to cover her breasts. "I love these." Thumbs rub over peaked nipples and we both groan. 

One hand stays to alternately worship her breasts; the other lowers to lightly cup her between her legs.

Feyre moans and I can feel a wetness that has nothing to do with the shower. Gently parting her hot flesh, I push one finger inside and groan again, louder.

Feyre pushes back against me at the same time as throwing out a hand, to steady herself against the shower wall. 

I withdraw and add a second finger, thrusting in a slowly building rhythm.

When my thumb finds, and begins to circle, the bundle of nerves down there, Feyre thrusts her hips to meet my hand with a moan.

Her inner walls contract, trying to hold my fingers in place, and then her legs are quivering and only my arm, hastily wrapped around her waist, keeps her standing. 

The dopey smile on my face and the movement of my fingers falters only when her hand wraps around my growing erection. I go still at that sensation - her stroking me from base to tip. Again. And-

I catch her hand and pull it up to my mouth, turning her in my arms. 

Then we're kissing again and I can taste the water but beneath that is also the now-familiar taste of her mouth. 

"My turn," she says and I brace myself as she lathers up her hands and moves them in wide circles over my chest. Every feeling is made more intense by the cascading water. 

I watch her face as she works and I am painfully hard by the time she reaches for me again. "Not yet." I am _not_ going to finish in the shower.

I quickly rinse any left-over soap from both of us and turn off the shower. 

After wringing the water from her hair, I towel her dry.

I take a long time on her breasts, Feyre trembling like a leaf the whole time, either from the aftershocks of her recent orgasm or in anticipation of the next. 

Until her hands tighten around my wrists and I go still, "Please. No more teasing."

The towel falls to the floor between us as I take her face in my hands and kiss her. It's all teeth and tongues and a long groan from me when my now-very-sensitive flesh brushes her hip. 

We leave the bathroom and I guide Feyre into my bedroom, where I know condoms are waiting. 

Feyre sits at the edge of the bed, her hands straying to brush over her nipples as she looks at me again.

I love that look, like I'm the most attractive person she's ever seen. Good - she's certainly the most beautiful person I've ever seen. 

**Feyre**

Rhys kneels beside the bed, between my knees, which I part further to make room for him. 

With his eyes always on my face, he starts at my knees and slides his palms up my legs. Then he drags them back down, fingertips teasing my inner thighs.

I'm almost panting now and I don't care because he is lowering his head to kiss my navel. And lower. And- _oh gods._ He runs his tongue over every place his fingers explored so thoroughly in the shower. 

As he sucks gently on my clit, I feel another wave of pleasure approaching. "Now Rhys," I beg, tugging on his hair. 

He climbs up my body, leaving kisses along the way, and repositions us on the bed. 

I see him retrieve a condom for the bedside table but he doesn't shift to put it on. 

Rhys leans close, his forehead meets mine and I can feel his rapid breathing against my face. "You're sure? There's no rush." 

I kiss him and take the foil packet from his hand. "I'm sure."

It doesn't take long for Rhys to be ready and positioned by my entrance. The first inch slips inside and he pauses until I roll my hips, asking for more. _Begging_. 

With a deep hum of pleasure, Rhys pushes in, in, in. All the way. And then he starts to move. 

It's so overwhelmingly wonderful that every exhale is accompanied by a soft moan. I can't stop the sounds and I'm not sure Rhys would want me to, if his whispered words of encouragement are anything to go by. 

We are both close now. Rhys rises to his knees, bringing me with him to straddle his lap. The change in angle has him slipping deeper than before and it's enough to have my body clenching around him. 

Rhys loses his rhythm and the last few thrusts are messy, deep, as his release finds him. 

He lowers us back onto the sheets, a tangle of sweaty limbs. "I love you."

Even though I've heard him say it before, even though I see the truth of it in every look we share, the words bring tears to my eyes. "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is coming people. One purely light-hearted chapter at a time is my limit. 
> 
> In later chapters, there might be some of this sort of content woven in, along side the plot. Hope that's ok.


	15. Feyre

**Chapter Fifteen - Feyre**

The weekend is a blur. Like teenagers, we don't seem to be able to keep our hands off each other. I don't tire and no matter how good he makes me feel, my desire for him isn't sated. 

The townhouse looks different to me now that almost every room has stood witness to this change in our relationship. When Mor, Cass and Az come over briefly on Sunday it is a test to my self-control but also to my ability to hide my thoughts. 

We sit around the table on which a few hours earlier Rhys had stripped me and brought me to the edge of release so many times that when he finally made me come I'm sure the neighbours three houses down in both directions could have heard me calling his name. 

The smug smile on Rhys' face confirms that he is remembering it too; I’m sure my face has a permanent blush.

None of Rhys’ family comment on the way we now sit so comfortably close to each other, beyond knowing smiles and a hug from Cassian. I cannot believe how easy the transition from his friend to his lover has been, but then they have all treated me like family since I got here. 

The perfect weekend - yet, there have been other moments, more frequent as the weekend came to an end, where I found Rhys watching me with worry in his eyes. 

Sadness has cast a shadow across his face again tonight. But he simply shakes his head when I ask if something is wrong, only to instantly ask _me_ if I'm OK, if there's anything I want to talk about… I’m missing something, but what?

It leaves me cold, this uncertainty, but it never lasts long. Just as many times before, a kiss, a brush of hands, and now we are giving everything to one another once again.

And whatever Rhys is struggling to say stays forgotten. 

.o0O0o. 

On Monday morning I wake alone. 

A glance at the clock tells me the alarm is yet to go off so I haven't overslept. I reach a hand across to Rhys’ side of the bed - already _his_ side, _always_ his side now - to find the sheets cold and the bed covers tidy. 

I remember my time with Tamlin, when waking alone was the only way I knew. A tightness in my chest leaves me wondering if the last few days were just the product of my imagination. 

It would make more sense, I don't deserve someone like Rhys. 

Hot tears are falling down my cheeks and I don't even know why I'm crying - because Rhys isn't here? because the weekend wasn't real? because Tamlin never stayed with me? because I was alone for so long and have only just realised what that did to me?

My hands are covering my whole face but the silent sobbing continues beneath my fingers, the sort of crying that feels as if there will be no end.

"Feyre!" 

I don't move when I hear my name, or when the bed dips beside me and arms pull me into a tight embrace. 

"Shh, Feyre, it’s ok. I'm here." 

He is dressed already. In fact, he's suited up, far smarter than I have any memory of seeing him. 

"I've made your shirt damp." 

Rhys smiles, "It will dry." He rubs his thumb gently beneath one eye, then the other, chasing the last few tears. "Want to talk about it?" 

An offer. Rhys never demands.

"It's stupid." 

"Then let's laugh it off together."

I swallow. For him, I'll try to explain. "When I woke and you weren't here… It was like being back with Tamlin. He never stayed the night, he'd visit my bed if… you know, if he wanted… I thought I was back there, for a moment. Alone again."

"You're never alone." His eyes are darker but in a way I recognise as pain not desire. "Never again." 

I shift against him, sitting up without his support. "I'm still getting used to this, I thought I'd made it all up."

The warm smile melts the pain in his eyes, his voice softer, "I do that too. I'll be looking at you drinking tea or looking out the window and I'll suddenly realise you're not a dream - you're _here_."

Rhys brushes his lips across mine, a kiss that makes me press back into him but he doesn't seek to deepen the kiss. Leaning back, Rhys smooths my hair, tucking any unruly strands behind my ears. His face is serious again. 

"You're dressed." 

He nods, "I need to leave early today." He gives me a look that says, _we both know why I need to leave early_.

But I _don't_ know and I'm afraid to admit this. 

"What is your plan for today?" he asks, attempting to sound casual and failing. 

"I'll be at the library."

Rhys looks away for a moment, I'm searching for something else to say when he asks, “I can still walk with you to the library, if you can be ready to go half an hour earlier?” 

Something about the lack of eye contact and the tension in his arms tells me this is not the question he wants to ask.

Instinctively, I know that Rhys is asking for my company today, for himself. Today, for whatever reason, he needs me to walk with him, to share part of his journey to wherever he's going - of course I agree.

.o0O0o. 

The phone in my pocket starts to sing out an unfamiliar ringtone. I think it is the first time I've heard it ring. Yet all the people who actively care about me are already in this room. 

The timing isn't great, the whole of Rhys' family arrived late afternoon, just after I got back from the library and before Rhys himself was home. We've just sat down to eat - all of us together around the dining table. It’s take away food of the best kind - from a restaurant that Cassian took me to a lifetime ago. 

Still, I mumble apologies and tell the others not to wait as I step out to answer the call. Only Rhys watches me go, his face trying to hide the concern I know he is feeling as I head for the garden.

We are both wobbling a little today, for our own separate reasons, but with everyone here, I haven't been able to talk to him about it.

“Hello?”

“Ms Archeron?” 

“Speaking.”

“This is Mr Marsh.” 

“Oh,” I reply, with no recognition in my voice. _Should I know this person?_

“Your lawyer.” 

“ _Oh_. I'm sorry, how can I help you?”

“I'm calling to update you on the trial. I called your home and your father gave me this number.” 

_Trial?_ “O-ok.” My mind reels, I wonder, is this something to do with the Starfall case? But why would _I_ need a lawyer? 

“You lost Ms Archeron.” 

“I don't understand.”

“Without your evidence there really wasn't a case, certainly not one strong enough for attempted murder.” 

He keeps talking but I'm no longer hearing much of what he says. I understand now only too well what trial he is talking about. Eventually I hear him repeatedly calling my name so I mumble, "Thank you for calling," before hanging up. 

I've wander further down the garden and I sit down heavily, looking away from the house. 

I may not have understood everything but I got the key points: Amarantha is free. And it is my fault. If I'd give evidence she might be serving time for all the pain she caused - and not just to me, to many others - including the family eating in the house behind me. 

.o0O0o.

I go back to the others just as they finish eating, which gives me the chance to clear away my plate without explaining my loss of appetite. 

My claim that the phone call had been from Nesta seems universally accepted. Except maybe by Rhys. 

While Az and Rhys talk quietly, Cass and Mor start to argue over how to spend the rest of the evening. I make my excuses and retire upstairs. But I don't go all the way up. On the first floor, I duck into Rhys’ office, close the door and sit with my back to it. Some sounds of conversation reach me from below but they go unheard. 

.o0O0o.

Though I am lost to thought and caught out of time, I hear the others leave - 11pm? Later? There is no light coming through the window and the office is now thickly painted with shadows.

Shortly after the front door closes, I hear Rhys on the stairs. I feel him as he passes the door, only thin timber between us, and then he is climbing the second set of stairs to our rooms.

I'm tempted to go to him but this is my guilt to bear. I have let him down more than myself - she was cruel to him far longer than she was to me. 

I wonder if he will go to straight to his own room and assume that I am fast asleep in mine. I wonder if he will go to bed and not even notice I’m not with him. I wonder if on some level he knows that I am not worthy.

Feeling foolish now on the office floor, I push back to my feet. I can’t stay here.

As quietly as I can, I slip out of the office and return downstairs. Back in the kitchen/dining room, I sit on the far side of the table, where I can rest my back against the wall, and pull my legs up onto the bench so that I am pinned between the wall and the table. 

I hug my legs and press my eyes hard against my knees. The quiet is soothing. If I could have a super power right now, I would wrap this peaceful darkness around myself until I disappeared. 

How long I sit alone in the dark I'm not sure. I don't hear feet on the stairs but I do feel a change in the air and know without looking that Rhys is in the doorway. 

I keep my head on my knees as he joins me at the table, sitting sideways on the bench beside me so that he’s looking at my profile. He rests one hand on my back and when I don't pull away he begins to rub slowly up and down my spine. 

"Tough day?" 

I curl into myself further, trying to hide the tears on my cheeks. 

"You can talk to me, Feyre." 

"The trial was today." 

Rhys doesn't pause in rubbing my back. He's not surprised. 

I look directly at him, watching closely as I say, "Amarantha got off." His face is sad but nothing more. "You _knew_?" I whisper. 

He nods. I think back to how he was this morning, the worried glances over the weekend. And then I realise he's been out all day… "Y-You were _there_?" 

"I gave evidence against her." 

I'm gaping at him. How did I not know this? "Tell me."

His hand stills and then he removes it, reaching for my hand instead. 

As he weaves his fingers between mine he says, "She claimed it was an accident, that you were both fighting and it got out of hand. Several people from the conference gave evidence, they said that she’d been baiting you all week and then you had stood up to her. Amarantha said you'd met by the road and the argument got physical. She never meant for you to get hurt."

"But - "

"I know," he stops me, squeezing my hand. "Tamlin said that you and he had gone for a walk together and met Amarantha. He said you'd been arguing but he didn't see how you ended up on the road. Without your evidence the case collapsed." 

"No one asked me to give evidence."

Rhys tightens his grip on my hand and I look up. "Tamlin told the court you didn't want to give evidence, he brought a doctor with him who said it would put your mental recovery at risk." 

“No one ask me.” 

“The doctor had a report dated last week." 

"What doctor?" I’m shaking my head. "Before I came here, Tamlin just kept saying that he was dealing with everything. I never…” The truth is a slap in the face, “I never questioned him on it." 

Like he can read my mind, Rhys says "It's not your fault."

"I never even asked-" 

" _Feyre_. It's not your fault. He lied and not just to you. He's lied in court and so did the doctor."

We sit in silence for several minutes processing all this, until I ask, "What about your evidence?" 

His jaw tenses. "They didn't believe me. They said I was too far away. If Tamlin didn't see, then how could I have seen? And they said… They said I was getting back at Amarantha for how she treated me, said I was only interested in personal revenge."

"I'm so sorry, Rhys."

He rests his free hand against my cheek, stroking gently. "You never have to apologise, especially over this. You're safe now, that's all that matters."

"But _she_ is free."

"She won't be able to touch you now. Amarantha is a lot of things but she isn't stupid, she knows she wouldn’t get off a second time." 

“But what about you? What about everything she did to you?”

“This is enough,” he whispers and I let my eyes close, focusing only on the movement of his thumb against my skin. "You're tired." I nod and he puts her arm around me, "Come on. Time to sleep now."

.o0O0o.

That night, I dream of Amarantha and the car until Rhys wakes me. He is covered in sweat and shivering as he rocks me, recovering from his own dream - possibly a variation on mine.

Every night we have these dreams is another victory for Amarantha. Our own minds are now a weapon that she can wield against us, making us weaker, vulnerable, as we wait for her next move.

Because whatever Rhys might say, we both know she isn't done with us yet. 


	16. Rhys

**Chapter Sixteen - Rhys**

Feyre sleeps in late and I don't even think of waking her. 

After yesterday and last night, a lie-in will do her good. It does me good too, to watch her while she rests on a calm sea of sleep with no dreams disturbing her. 

Relaxed. She looks so young. She looks her age in fact, sometimes I forget how young she is. 

When I see the first signs of waking, I brush the hair from her face and whisper a promise of breakfast in bed. Her lips twitch into a smile and her fingers close around mine. 

"I won't be long." 

I leave before her eyes are fully open. 

In the kitchen, I make up a selection of food - toast, fruit, and tea for both of us. 

My hands shake slightly on the way back up. I'm usually very capable of hiding my anxiety but I'm usually better at making decisions. 

Back in her room, Feyre is now sitting up in bed, her smile gone. 

I set the tray down between us and we pick at the food in silence. Mostly I break the toast into ever smaller crumbs; my appetite has suddenly vanished. 

Finally, "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I hoped that you would speak to me when you were ready to. I didn't want to push."

"But as the trial got closer, on the day itself, why didn't you mention it?"

I shake my head. There were so many times that I almost did just that. 

" _Rhys_ ," Feyre pleads with me, "I could have given evidence. I _would_ have, if you'd told me."

"I know that now." My voice is so quiet I'm surprised she can hear me. I clear my throat and offer what little explanation I can. "I was told by my lawyer to expect the case to fall. I was told you were being advised _not_ to give evidence, that it was not medically in your interest to do so." 

I glance at Feyre and see silver lining her eyes, tears she refuses to shed. 

"I was told you had decided not to attend and not to apply for a later court date. Feyre, I thought this was what you wanted." I see her turn her face away but I don't need to see the rolling tears to know they fall. 

"I didn't want you to feel pressured into doing something you didn't feel able to do."

"You thought I'd let her _get away with it_?" 

"I _thought_ you'd decided to move on, start life over… with me."

In this not-quite-argument I can see how hard Feyre is trying to contain the frustration and anger. It flows through her like a fast moving current of water beneath the frozen surface of a river.

She's been cheated out of closure. By me. 

"I'm sorry." 

She turns to me, her eyes sharp at first then softening as she takes in my face. Feyre reaches across the tray of food to find my hand. "It's not your fault."

Cradling her hand between both of mine, I'm grateful for her words even though I know they're not true. 

Since last week, I knew a conversation was needed. I knew something was wrong even if I didn't know what. I'm not the only person in the wrong but I certainly played my part. 

But Feyre has overcome so many challenges, been trampled on by so many people. To force this on her if she had chosen to let it go - I couldn't do it. 

What right have I to choose her battles for her?

And she was happy. This weekend has been like no other since I've known her. That smile I'd only witnessed once across a crowded room was being shared with me freely.

She is always beautiful to me but that smile makes her face indescribably lovely. 

And I was happy too. 

So I chose denial of the little facts that didn't feel quite right. I chose to enjoy her smile and I told myself that nothing else mattered. 

Feyre seems to sense the well of regret that I am currently sinking into. "I… I think we've both made mistakes but there is no point looking back now. See's free."

I nod, "And almost certainly helping Hyburn."

"So let's focus on that. They won this round, we must win the next."

I want to kiss her for how easy she makes that sound, how sure she is that together we can hold our ground. 

.o0O0o. 

We all gather in the Starfall conference room. Amren, Mor and Az are well aware of the Hyburn issue, it has been their main focus for weeks. Cassian, though mainly based at the library, is here for support. And Feyre, here at my request, is listening closely but staying quiet.

It wasn't the easiest of first meetings between her and Amren. The latter is understably suspicious of introducing new people just as we face the greatest threat in the company's long history. She's been financial director for longer than I've been CEO. 

I live forever in Mor's debt for the way she defended Feyre's right to be here, closing down the discussion and saving me from having to pull rank. 

"Can we summarise where we are?" I ask, looking to Az. 

Resting his scarred hands on the table, Az nods and begins, "Hyburn has always been influential in Velaris. When he sent Amarantha to work as an intern with us, we had little choice but to accept."

Az kindly doesn't add that she should have kept at arm's length all the same, that I had allowed my attention to wander. 

"Using Starfall as a base she made connections with other companies in the city and we now know she planted evidence of corruption in all of them.

"She would have done so here if Rhys hadn't realised and planted false evidence of his own for her to find. She took the bait.

Again, I am grateful that he leaves out _how_ I convinced her not to look further, not to dig her claws into my company. My friends. 

The faces around this table know varying accounts of how deeply I let Amarantha dig her claws into me for their sake.

I was the distraction. Her whore. 

"The case against us should be easily won if we can prove the evidence Rhys planted to be untrue. At least there are no surprises here."

" _Should_ be?" Cassian's voice is flat but his eyes brim with concern. 

Mor takes over, "The evidence we need dates back more than five years. Unfortunately, certain documents that we need for our defence are… missing."

My chest tightens. "Missing? Not just misplaced?" This is news to me. 

"I'm sorry Rhys, they're gone."

Feyre's hand grips my knee under the table. I don't need her to say who she thinks is responsible for the missing documents. 

"So what do we do?" I ask, hoping someone here has a plan. When no one volunteers any ideas, I know it needs to be me who leads. "OK, I planted the lie, we'll just have to unpick it without drawing attention to the missing documents." Because what once was our defence is now another nail in our coffin. 

Roles are divided up and everyone set to work. 

Feyre stays with me as the others go. "What about me?"

I can see she needs a job. If left idle she will only keep running over yesterday's trial and all the related what ifs. 

"Well Feyre darling, you owe me two weeks work." 

"I _owe_ you?" 

"We made a bargain, many months ago now. My help Under the Mountain in exchange for two weeks of your time at Starfall."

I see the flicker of a memory in her eyes. I remember too. With every trial Amarantha put Feyre through, I loved her all the more. And I wanted her to see beyond that week in hell, I wanted her to see _me_ beyond all that. 

"You're calling in the bargain now? Rhys surely there is something I can do-" 

"There is," I interrupt, serious now, "With Mor and Az now working full time on the Hyburn case along with Amren and myself, there is no one to pick up the day-to-day running of Starfall.

"I need you here making sure we have something left to save when this is all over."

"You want me to- to what? Run Starfall?"

Nodding, I hold her hands, so small in mine, "Nuala and Cerridwen normally support Mor and Az, they will now report to you. You'll manage our current projects - just keep things moving, that's enough. And we're all still here if you need help."

I can see her starting to panic. I'm asking a lot; am I asking too much? But then she swallows and meets my eyes with a steel-grey determination. 

"OK. I think you need to introduce me to Nuala and Cerridwen."

.o0O0o. 

We fall quickly into a new routine, one where we still walk to work together but no longer meet to walk home. 

Instead, Cassian has convinced Feyre to return to training with him. I'm pleased, it is time for her to feel strong again. 

At work, Feyre is thriving, learning faster than anyone could have expected. The twins have been amazing, as I knew they would be. Where once, at Spring, she hid her difficulty reading now she is supported to overcome it. 

By the end of the first week I know the bargain is irrelevant. Feyre will stay here because it is where she was always meant to be. 

.o0O0o. 

The shop, in the heart of the Old Town, has no sign or window display. It could be a home, it could be unoccupied, mostly it is unnoticed. 

But I have always noticed it, though I rarely come this way. 

I see the family name inscribed on a plaque beside the door, almost hidden behind ivy that seeks to squeeze the last life from this building, just as time has squeezed almost all the life from its occupant. 

The door opens, with only a creek, onto a cluttered room, a workbench and a woman. She looks at me with unseeing eyes yet I know she recognises me at once. 

"You know what I've come for."

She grins back at me with teeth that had never been straight but had, long ago, been white. 

She holds up a finger, bent with arthritis, and disappears behind a curtain - to the hidden catacombs of the back of her shop. 

She returns quicker than I expected. 

When I see the tiny box it is layered with dust but otherwise just as it had been when my mother showed it to me, years ago. Before she brought it here, for safe-keeping. 

I hold out my hand but the crone pulls the box from my reach, "It comes with a message," she pauses. "Your mother says you can take it but only for one who is worthy." 

My throat closes up. Not in doubt - Feyre is worthy in every way. But in sadness, that she and my mother will never meet, not in this life at least. 

"She is." 

The weaver uncurls her fingers and offers me the box. I take a step forward and a deep breath in. 

And then I claim back the box: Feyre's ring. 

.o0O0o. 

Mor greets me with a scowl on my return. "Where've you been?" 

"I've only been out for an hour, if that." 

"I didn't ask how long." 

A sigh and I pull the box from my jacket pocket; there are no secrets between us anyway.

Mor gasps and reaches out to touch the velvet cover, now dust free once more. "You've claimed it. Is she ready?" 

I look through the glass wall of my office to where I can see Feyre and Nuala deep in conversation. 

"Not yet. We need to be free of Amarantha's shadow. But there won't be anyone else, Mor. Even if Feyre says no, the ring is hers."

One side of Mor's mouth lifts in a smile, "She won't say no." 


	17. Feyre

**Chapter 17 - Feyre**

I duck and step back, all one movement with the fluidity of a dancer. I avoid the leg that swings round, aiming to knock me to the ground, and between breaths I land my own blow under my attacker's ribs.

"OK, OK. Enough," Cassian says holding an open hand up between us. He's breathing as hard as I am but not tired. I don't feel tired either but there is work to return to later this evening. 

"Too much for you, old man?" 

Cass grins, "I just don't want to mess you up too much before the party."

I've been working for Rhys for two weeks, a milestone of sorts, but the party isn't for me. It is the Starfall birthday party.

"You are going, right?"

I smile, "Of course. Like Rhys would let me sit it out." 

"It's nothing to do with Rhys, you're part of the team now, part of the _family_." 

I sit down on a nearby bench, water bottle tight between my hands. _Family_. It's been so long since I've felt part of one. Even though I'm back in contact with my sisters, I don't feel like I belong with them. I never did. 

"Everyone adores you, you know. Especially Rhys..." He's digging for information but I don't mind, talking has always been simple with Cassian.

"I feel like I've been with Rhys for years, too long to remember, even though we've only really been together a few weeks. It's odd but… in a good way, you know? It feels easy."

"You're soulmates. You were meant to be together."

I scoff wordlessly but Cassian's face is deadly serious. 

"Rhys is the best version of himself when he's with you, that's the truth. And Feyre, you've become the person I always knew you could be now that you're with him."

The certainty in his tone and depth of emotion in his eyes makes me blush. With anyone else I would be changing the subject now but for him I say, "I want to stay with him. Forever." 

"Then do," he smiles. "I'm happy for you." 

I worry at my lip between my teeth, "I'm not… _fixed_ , Cass."

"No," he agrees, "But neither is he. I don't think he'll ever forget Cahya and that's good. She should be remembered. Maybe you'll always remember your past, but I think you'll learn to live _with_ it. It will make you stronger." Cassian slings an arm over my shoulder as we leave the gym, "You're already family to me."

"I know." A sharp twinge at my elbow has me looking down at a yellowing patch of skin, "Ah, more bruises! What happened to going easy on me?" 

"I never said I'd go easy on you, I said I'd ease you back in. Totally different."

"What will Rhys say when he sees my arm turning blue?" 

"He'll tell you to spend more time hitting me and less time being hit." I try to hit him now but miss as he shifts out of range, laughing.

"Ha ha. I just hope my dress covers these marks. You know what Rhys thought when he first saw my bruises? Back when we were still almost strangers Under the Mountain, he thought Tamlin was abusive!" 

I don't know why I'm bringing this up, it's a bit heavy for a day like today - a celebration. I smile to show that I meant it lightly but Cassian's face has fallen. 

"He _was_ , Feyre, maybe not physically but he was certainly emotionally abusive. Nothing about you and Tamlin was healthy." 

I have no answer to that so we walk on in silence. 

.o0O0o. 

I don't see Rhys between training and returning to Starfall, he didn't have time to come home before the party. 

I shower and change into the dress Mor and I picked out last weekend, twist my hair into a half up, half down style that I know Rhys will like and then step back from the mirror and look. 

I rarely take the time to really look at myself. Not since Under the Mountain, when every glance in the mirror showed me a person I recognised less and less. 

Now I see someone who has taken the shards of their broken self and rearranged them into something better. Still sharp at the edges, damaged by the past, but whole once more. 

I want Rhys to like what he sees but more than that _I_ want to like what I see. Tonight I do. It makes me smile. 

I take a taxi back to Starfall where my new colleagues, friends and family are already raising glasses in honor of the company they work for - one that belongs to this community and gives back more and more every year. 

One I am proud to be a part of too, for as long as they will have me. 

I see Rhys watching me, a complex expression on his face. He gestures towards a pair of open doors, leading out onto a balcony. I nod and make my way in that direction but Rhys is closer and disappears through the doors before I get there. He catches my waist as I step into the cool evening air. 

"That dress is divine Feyre darling, I can't wait to take it off you."

I laugh softly as he brushes his lips across mine. 

Then the view behind him catches me by surprise, pulling me out of his embrace. A few steps further and I have a tight grip on the railing, looking up at the wall of mountains which stands transformed by the last surviving sunlight. 

During the day I would see only a cold, grey and dormant wall of rock behind the Starfall offices but right now it is alive with shades of pink and pastel blue. 

Rhysand's arms loop around me and his warmth against my back keeps me grounded. He asked nothing, doesn't hurry me away from the simple pleasure of observing as the sun sinks below the horizon and the mountains fade from sight. I turn back to Rhys and study his face in as much detail as I had the illuminated rock. 

My soulmate. 

I never believed in such things but the reality of my feelings for Rhys and the gentle intensity in his eyes right now has me wondering - maybe Cassian is right. Maybe we were _meant_ to be together. 

"Do you remember when we first looked at the stars together?" His voice breaks through my thoughts. 

It takes a moment to process the question but then a memory of us in the street outside Bryaxis makes me smile. 

"Yes."

"I wanted to hold you then, run my fingers down your cheek, through your hair, press my lips to your neck and feel your pulse." He does all of these things as he speaks and my knees tremble slightly. "Your eyes were like liquid silver, like starlight."

"Do you think we wasted time?" 

"Wasted? No. I wish I could have spared you from what came next but when I think of that night it just makes me more sure that you and I were inevitable."

I'm continually surprised at how his thoughts mirror mine. Rhys leans in and I meet him halfway, our lips parting and tongues lightly touching as we kiss again. 

"I love you." He says it like a promise. 

"Rhys," the words don't feel enough but I say them anyway, "I love you too." 

"There you are!" Cassian appears in the doorway, "Rhys come on, it's photo time." 

Rhys rolls his eyes in full view of Cassian but we both know he can't avoid this photo. 

It's a tradition that Cass is taking very seriously - every year on Starfall's birthday the management team have their photo taken. The pictures are displayed along the main corridor going back to when Rhys' father started the company. 

Sadly, it has been a lost tradition for a few years, thanks to Amarantha, but Cass is keen to get it going again from tonight. 

Rhys already tried to convince me to be in this year's photo but it wouldn't feel right. Hopefully though… By next year I might have earnt my place beside him. My future feels rose-tinted just like the mountains. In this moment everything is perfect. 

As I watch Cass positioning people for the photograph, Rhys sends me dramatic looks of irritation and Mor adjusts his tie and jacket. I laugh at them all, lining up like children. And then my phone rings. I don't even realise it's mine at first but when I do I answer it without thinking, without questioning the withheld number. 

"Hello?" 

"Hello Feyre. Go somewhere private, we need to talk." 

My face has frozen mid laugh but my insides are shrinking fast as all the parts of myself that I've slowly built up collapse.

 _Tamlin_.

"How did you get this number?" I ask, trying to buy time as my mind races. 

"It's good to hear your voice again Feyre. I've been so worried since you were taken."

 _Taken_? "How did you get this number?" I repeat. 

"Are you ready to listen? There so many interesting things I have to tell you-" 

"I don't want to talk," I interject but Tamlin carries on regardless. 

"-about Starfall and Hyburn and an upcoming court case."

Moving back towards the balcony I swallow small mouthfuls of air, fear tightening its grip around my chest. I can't hang up. As soon as I'm out of sight of my friends I sag against the wall. "Talk."

I hear him laugh. "All in good time. So you're working for him now I hear. And living with him too, congratulations. That always was your style."

I want to say something, _anything_ , to make this end. I want to be strong but Tamlin has always been able to make me weak. 

After a pause he continues, "Hyburn has enough information to bury Starfall and put your lover in prison. Your new friends will lose everything. But I can help you Feyre."

Heart racing, I wait for him to name his price. 

"I have some important documents, enough to save Rhysand and his company." _The missing documents,_ I think. "I'll give them to you Feyre, don't worry, all you have to do is come home."

I push off the wall and look back at the ongoing celebrations, keeping the phone hidden. I look at people whose lives are carrying on just as they were a few minutes ago. I look at Rhys, who meets my gaze. Even across the room I can see the slight crease of his forehead and concern in his eyes. I mask my devastation with a smile and turn away. 

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Don't you trust me, Feyre?" 

I don't answer. I won't play games.

He sighs, "Meet me tomorrow and I'll give you the proof you need." He names a restaurant we used to go to together, in the early days of our relationship, and tells me to meet him for lunch. 

A single tear glides down my face, following the edge of my nose and leaving a salt residue on my lip. "OK."

"Well done Feyre. When you come home everything will be right again. I'll see you tomorrow."

He hangs up but I am trapped on the call, the phone still pressed to my ear and his words repeating inside my head. 

The rest of the party is torture, seeing the life I will soon give up. Because I _will_ give this up. Anything to save Rhys. I can feel it all ending, unravelling at my feet. 

I get some odd looks, from Rhys in particular, but my explanation of a sudden headache seems to be accepted by all. I put on a smile and make sure to speak to everyone, so I can avoid Rhys who might still see through the act. 

Only once do I let the mask fall, as I collect a new drink and stand alone for a moment watching the crowd. Which is when I see a face half hidden in shadow, a face staring back at me and seeing everything I’d rather hide. 

Az, it seems, has not been fooled by my acting or distracted by the party.

**Author's Note:**

> This probably won't follow the books as closely as A View of the Stars.
> 
> I love to hear what you're thinking.


End file.
